Ghost Of The Past
by winky-wink
Summary: Someone returns to haunt Alanna from the past. Havoc is reaked and soon the Lioness finds herself dressing up, falling under the orders of enemies and...engaged? Through all this chaos, could she actually fall in love?
1. Prologue: Gold digger

**Disclaimer: **No matter how much I dream, everything here belongs to Tamora Pierce except, of course, the plot. And some minor things I made up here and there.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Undecided?

**Musical Affection: **'Gold Digger' by _Kayne West_

**Author's Note: **This is my first attempt at a Tamora Pierce fic. I'm mostly used to writing Harry Potter but I decided to branch out and try this out of the heck of it. I'm been infatuated with The Song of a Lioness Series for a good few weeks now. So, why not, right? Haha. Please be gentle.

Anyway I got this story from a small exerpt in Alanna, the First Adventure, where Alanna mentions Lady Catherine, a person who had planned to marry her father. Then it hints that Alanna and Thomscared her away by creating ghostsusing her Gift.I just thought it might be interesting to write about. And don't worry about this chapter. It's a prologue. Future chapters take place when Alanna's about sixteen. Don't stare like that. All the good story ideas are taken!

* * *

'_Brigands demand your money or your life; women require both_'-Samuel Butler

* * *

Alanna of Trebond rustled uncomfortably in her gown. Her father had made her wear a ridiculously lacey outfit just to welcome _her. _For what seemed like the millionth time, she sighed deeply, her patience running low. Who was 'her', you may ask? 'Her' was Lady Catherine of Galla, sister to Alanna's late mother. Lady Catherine was everything Alanna hated. A cruel-minded, vain, soft noble lady. However, the thing that Alanna hated most about her was the intention which she brought with her when she came to Trebond. 

Thinking this, the young Trebond glanced at her father, wondering if he would actually fall to her charms. He was currently busy with his nose in a book, even now, as they stood outside on the steps of Trebond Manor, awaiting the carriage that was drawing ever closer in the distance. She frowned. No. He wouldn't fall to her charms. He never fell to anything's charms. Unless it was a book or a scroll.

Alanna's older-by-two-minutes-brother coughed gently on her other side. She turned her head, glad for the distraction.

"Feeling under the weather, dear brother?" Alanna asked, her voice hiding a certain teasing quality.

"Not in particular, no," Thom replied, wrinkling his nose, "She's here."

Alanna looked ahead and saw that Lady Catherine's carriage really had stopped in front of them. It was large, extravagant, made of the best quality oak in the land. _'If she's so rich, why does she want my father's gold?_' Alanna thought, sullenly. She didn't care what her father said. She just couldn't bring herself to be nice to this woman. Alanna had never been good at putting up false pretences.

Lord Alan of Trebond finally shut his book and looked up, his face expressionless. Coram and Wesley, a servingman of her father's, came forward to help Lady Catherine out of her carriage. Thom and Alanna's father also stepped forward and looked to his children to follow his lead. Thom went forward easily but that was because _he _got to wear breeches and a comfortable tunic while Alanna was stuck with this-with this-_distaster _in aquamarine.

She took a step timidly, picking up her gown as her governess had instructed. These darned shoes were killing her feet, toe by toe! She grimaced as she lost feeling in her left foot. Still, she continued. Lord Alan would not forgive her easily for embarrassing him in front of the new guests. Finally, all the Trebonds were settled, earnestly, in front of the carriage as Coram opened it.

Lady Catherine leaned forward and smiled when she caught sight of them. Her light brown hair was bound into tight little ringlets all around her head. Her gown made Alanna actually feel more comfortable in her own. It was peach with a shower of jewels all along its length. It came to a tight fitting around her neck and because of the color of the gown so matching the color of her skin, she almost looked naked. Squinting, you would've been fooled for sure.

Lord Alan held out his arm for her and she took it, her smile widening. She stepped down, walking more gracefully than Alanna could ever wish to, she thought wistfully, and with an elegant sweep, she bowed.

"Lord Alan, you do not know how pleased I am to see you," she simpered, "And may I add, that you look quite dashing. How _do _you preserve yourself, sir?"

Lord Alan looked quite surprised by this sudden compliment and seemed to not know how to reply to it.

"Erm...I really don't do much, my Lady," he said, nervously, suddenly acutely aware of her hand on his arm.

"My, you must simply be magic musn't you?" Lady Catherine replied, keeping her smile in tact all the while.

At the word magic Thom twitched. Alanna knew how he felt about magic but he would soon regret that twitch because it was a cause to that that Lady Catherine noticed him when she did.

"Thom? Is that you? Look how you've grown!" Lady Catherine said with false sincerity, snatching him up in a hug.

Alanna distinctly heard Thom murmur something like, "I'm only nine." but Lady Catherine seemed oblivious to it all and only pressed him tighter to her bosom. Alanna frowned. It almost looked like Thom was suffocating over there. However, after a moment or two she released him.

"If you grow any more handsome, young man, some lady will snatch you away from us all soon!" Lady Catherine teased, making Thom blush furiously and Alanna stifle a giggle, "Perhaps I should talk to your father and save you for my daughter now before it is too late?"

"Helena is here?" Alanna asked, not able to hide the distress in her voice.

Helena of Galla was just as bad as her mother. Alanna had been hoping that Lady Catherine would've left her behind. The girl thought that just because she was two years older than Alanna meant she could boss her around. Alanna, not being one to take things lightly, had punched her firmly in the eye. They had been enemies ever since.

"Why yes, and she is _very _excited to see you again," Lady Catherine replied with a smile which looked more like a smirk, "Helena! Come out here and greet your cousins and uncle!"

A soft-looking girl stepped forward and out of the carriage. She had light brown hair like her mother's but her's lay flat and straight down her back. She wore a forest green gown that looked rather pretty on her, Alanna admitted to herself. Helena's grey eyes traversed the scene before her and she plastered that same sickening smile her mother wore on her own face. It ruined her beauty.

"Dear uncle, it causes me all sorts of joy to see you again," Helena said, warmly, curtsying towards Lord Alan.

'_Yeah, so you can take his riches from him,_' Alanna thought, darkly, to herself.

"And, my wonderful cousins, oh! I've missed you so!" she cried, throwing herself on Alanna, "Especially you, Alanna."

Alanna thought the last part was added rather suspiciously. However, she didn't let it phase her.

"Uh, yes. I feel the same," Alanna lied through her teeth.

"Oh, Helena, take a look at this one here," Lady Catherine said, gesturing towards Thom, "Won't he make a fabulous knight someday?"

Thom flinched when she mentioned him being a knight. Alanna understood why. Fencing, swordfighting, wrestling, tilting, and knighthood weren't exaclty Thom's cup of tea. They were more what Alanna was accustomed to enjoying. They both dreaded the day two years into the future when they would have to live each other's dreams. Thom in Corus. Alanna in the City of the Gods.

"Yes, I'm sure he will," Helena said, not particularly interested in Thom. She turned back to Alanna, "Would you be so kind as to escort me to my chambers, my lovely Alanna? I know we have so much to catch up on."

It was an offer Alanna couldn't refuse. Literally. Lord Alan would have her hide if she did. She nodded and started to lead the way for Helena, all the while looking back at Lady Catherine who was in the middle of chatting up her father. Thom looked on in disgust.

"Tell me, young Trebond, are you over your childhood fantasies yet? Or do you still believe you can become a knight?" Helena questioned, smugly, once they were out of hearing vicinity.

Alanna gritted her teeth, "Yes. I _don't _believe I can become a knight. I _know _I canbecome a knight.

She said it with such conviction that she almost believed herself for a second. Hopefully Helena would be fooled too. Instead she just broke out in laughter. Alanna frowned and fought the urge to give her cousin a good thrashing.

"Funny, is it? We'll see who's laughing when I'm a knight!" Alanna cried, indignantly.

This, however, only caused more spurs of laughter from Helena, who was crying with the humor of it all. She couldn't even walk so Alanna had to stand there, impatiently, as she finished her little laugh fest. She was getting more heated by every second that ticked by. She would become a knight. She was sure. No one was going to stop her. Not Lord Alan even. And if Helena found that so funny then she was asking for a beating.

"Yes I suppose we will," Helena responded, after her giggles died away, "Although I still believe I'll be the one who'll do the laughing even then."

Alanna chose notto reply. She had too much dignity for it. And she also had very little comebacks. She would just wait till the time came and then she'd show Helena and everyone that doubted her what she was made of.

"But we really shouldn't argue since we _are _to be sisters," Helena said after a while in what she presumed was a reasonable voice.

"Sisters?" Alanna snorted, "You're so sure even though your mother and my father aren't even bethrothed yet?"

"Dearest Alanna, haven't you yet realized it?" Helena answered with a sigh, "My mother always gets whatever she wants. And right now what she wants is your father."

"More like his gold and silver!" Alanna retorted.

Helena seemed to look at her in a whole new light, "You're clever, Trebond, that's for sure. But that sharp tongue of yours won't get you anywhere unless you use it sweetly."

"I don't need advice from you, thanks very much," Alanna huffed, stopping in front of a large mahogany door that was going to home to Helena for a few days. Or at least Alanna _hoped_ it would only be for a few days.

"Hmm, nice room," Helena commented, "Though, not as nice as the palace. Mother and I were there just last month, did you know? I saw Prince Jonathan there. Only a year older than me. And, Mithros, he is to _die _for."

Alanna rolled her eyes. Expect Helena to notice only the _boys _when she went to the palace. She didn't want to let Helena think she was interested in all this but she really was. In her own way. She fought off the urge to ask her questions but curiousity got the better of her.

"Did you see any knights? See any battles? I hear they have a week of jousting where they-" she stopped and frowned, realizing that Helena wasn't even paying attention to her.

Instead she was studying the material that the curtains were made of. Great Mother Goddess! Was that all the girl could think of? Alanna wondered, shaking her head. She tried to get Helena's attention to ask her questions once again.

"Did you see any knights?" Alanna asked, trying to keep her voice level and calm.

"Hmm? Oh yes, I did. Sweaty things they are. But-," Helena's eyes glazed over, "They _are _extremely handsome. Especially Sir Fireth of Jakal."

Alanna groaned. She hadn't wanted to hear about how sweaty or how handsome the knights were. All she wanted was to know was how they lived, what they did on a daily basis, how many battles had they fought. That sort of stuff. But why was she so disappointed? She should've known she wouldn't have gotten this information from Helena. She was least likely of all people. Alanna gave up and stomped out of the room, whilst Coram entered it, carrying Helena's bags.

He winked at her but she wasn't in the mood to return it. She was more restless than ever before. She also felt more hopeless than ever before. Alanna had never wanted to be a knight more than she did now. But the chances of that happening seemed to be growing thinner and thinner by each passing day.

* * *

"Oh, Lord Alan, please! You do flatter me too much!" Lady Catherine giggled, raising her fork to her mouth. 

"My Lady, all I do is speak the truth. You look simply stunning," Lord Alan replied, smiling.

Alanna could not believe this. It had been a week since Lady Catherine and Helena's arrival and already the effects the visit were having on Lord Alan were obvious. Suddenly Alanna didn't feel the least bit hungry. She looked across the table at Thom, who seemed to be feeling the same though he hid it better. But who wouldn't be disgusted by this...atrocity first thing in the morning at their own breakfast table? Alanna was strongly against her Aunt Catherine becoming her Stepmother Catherine. The mere thought caused shivers to run up her spine. She desperately had to do something to prevent a marriage from happening. Just what that would be, she had no clue.

However, that didn't stop her from cornering Thom after breakfast.

"We _have _to do something," Alanna said, simply, hoping he would understand what exactly they had to do something about. He did.

"I was just going to say the same, sister," he nodded, "I'm still working out the what factor though. Come, let's go discuss this in the library."

Alanna made a face, "No, not the library. Helena might find us there. Let's go to visit Coram, she'd never go _there._"

Thom opened his mouth to argue but Alanna had that scary look in her eyes again. He decided it was better to just do this on her terms lest she dunked his head in the pond again.

They both hurried to where Coram stayed. A little house, not far from Trebond manor. He opened the door for them both, groggy-eyed. He obviously had another of one his hangovers. He looked the two of them over and moved away from the door, leaving it open. Thom and Alanna took this to mean they could enter. Thom seemed unnerved but Alanna felt just as comfortable here as she did in all the lavish living up at the manor. She was no ordinary noble, afterall.

She and Thom sat at a wickety old table, while Coram went off to his own business around the house. Immediately, the twins began to swap ideas about how to rid themselves of Lady Catherine.

"We could always play pranks on her till she left," Alanna said, looking at Thom.

He raised an eyebrow, "They'd all know it was us. Who else would dare play a prank on Lady Catherine?"

"How 'bout we beat on Helena till Lady Catherine realizes that we couldn't work as siblings? Or, even better, how about we beat on Lady Catherine, herself?" Alanna grinned, stating the idea that appealed to her most above all.

"Now you're just being silly," Thom frowned.

"Alright. Alright. Hmm...uhh...we could talk to father? Tell him our wishes?" Alanna suggested, losing all hope.

"You've run out of ideas, haven't you?" Thom said, quietly.

They both sat in a quiet misery for a moment. Both of them thinking about how their father had never truely respected them or loved them for that matter. How he hadn't hugged Alanna till her mother had died. Neither of them liked to think about how their father didn't care but sometimes...sometimes it all came with a sudden sadness they just couldn't handle. Not at nine years old anyways.In an instant Alanna couldn't take it anymore.

"Well if you're so smart why don't you think of an idea, braniac?" Alanna demanded, angrily.

Thom looked up at her, face still dazed from thought, "I did have an idea, actually."

Suddenly Alanna was all ears, "What is it?"

Thom hesitated.

"You're not going to like it," he declared.

"Then don't tell me," Alanna snapped, stubbornly.

"But it _is _the only way as far as I can see," Thom commented, thoughtfully.

"Ok, then, tell me. I can handle it," Alanna gave in, "Anything to get rid of that witch up at our home."

"Well, it involves a bit of magic you see-

"Magic? No way am I getting involved then! You have enough magical talent for the both of us!" Alanna exclaimed, knowing there was no way she was going to partake in magic.

"Alanna, don't be so difficult. I'm good yes but the type of magic I want to do requires more strength than I have. I'm just a beginner, you know," Thom argued, hoping to make his twin see sense.

"Why does it have to be magic?" Alanna grumbled, clearly distraught.

"Well, what is Aunt Catherine's greatest fear?" Thom inquired, obviously knowing the answer.

Alanna knew too, though she hated to admit it, "Magic and...ghosts."

"Exactly! She hates all that supernatural stuff, you see? So if we magicked some ghosts up, you know, created illusions of ghosts, maybe just maybe we can frighten her out of Trebond," Thom said, his eyes gleaming at the talk of magic.

"I wish we could frighten her out of Tortall," Alanna added, cheekily.

"Frighten who out of Tortall?" Coram asked, walking in with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.

"No one," the twins replied quickly in chorus.

Coram set down the lemonade and glasses and looked the two of them over, suspiciously. Thom and Alanna tried to put on their most innocent faces.

"Now listen, I don't want either of ye to go about frightening _anybody. _Especially not Lady Catherine. _Especially _not with magi-"

"Oh, look at the time! We have to go, Coram!" Alanna exclaimed, cutting across him, "Sorry! We'll see you tomorrow, perhaps? Come, Thom, let's go."

Thom gave Coram a quick look before hurrying after Alanna. Coram closed the door behind them. Well, he had tried. But once those two got an idea in their heads, it was extremely hard to get it out.

* * *

Lady Catherine pratically skipped up to her room but she didn't. She was far too dignified to _ever _skip. There were things a noble lady could do and things a noble lady couldn't do. Skipping was a don't. Marrying a rich man to get even more richer yourself was a do. And that was exactly what she was doing. She opened the door to her chambers. A maid was putting the finishing touches on her bath by sprinkling rose petals over the soapy foam. 

"M'lady," she curtysed towards Lady Catherine.

Catherine only sneered, "Get out of my sight before I'm forced to punish you for even coming into my sight."

The maid blushed a bright red and scurried out as if she had just been burned. Catherine watched her go, not particularly interested. She had just reached her lacings to undo them when she heard a quick swish as if something had just sped by. She quickly looked up and snapped her head around the room. Nothing was out of order. No one was in the room although a curtain was rustling. Catherine shook her head and smiled to herself. All this romance and wooing business was getting to her head. Not that she really needed to try anymore. Oh no, she had Alan wrapped around her finger.

She had almost had all her lacings done and was just about to removed her corset when she heard another swish. This time she looked up and studied the room more carefully. She could feel beads of sweat begin to form on the back of her neck.

"Who's there?" she called, her voice sounding weak and alone, "Show yourself."

The 'thing' responded by breaking the vase on her bed side table. Catherine screamed. No one had knocked the vase down. It had just exploded into a thousand pieces. Mithros! This was not good.

Suddenly a deep voice rang loud and clear.

"Catherine of Galla!"

"By the Black God!" Catherine cried, clutching her corset to herself and backing away from her bed.

That was pointless, however, because the voice seemed to be everywhere. Resounding from every corner of the room.

"Catherine of Galla!" The Great Voice repeated again, "I am the Ghost of-err...-HONOR! And I am here to reprimand you for your sins!"

Horror swept across Catherine's face as she looked around the room in fright. In the air in front of her a figure was beginning to form. It was hazy at first but then it formed. It was the figure of a great, tall, lumbering man wearing a long black cloak.

Catherine screamed again and backed away from the ghost as far as possible until she was practically up against her bath tub.

"You have sinned, Catherine. You have come here to Trebond for unjust reasons! And for that you shall pay!"

"No..," Catherine merely whimpered.

"You'll also be paying for dressing like a slut!" The Ghost Of HONOR continued, "And giving birth to a boy-crazy slut just like yourself!"

"SHUT UP, will you!" The Ghost Of HONOR cried, instantly sounding whiney.

"I didn't say anything!" Catherine gasped, utterly confused.

"Eh?" The Ghost turned back to her, "Yeah I know. I wasn't talking to you."

Catherine, in all her terror, was still curious, "Who?"

"Who? Uhh, well...THE SPIRITS WITHIN!" The Ghost cried and lunged towards her.

Catherine gave one last ear-splitting shriek and tried to hide away from the Ghost of HONOR by jumping into her bathtub, clothing and all. The Ghost came and stood over her, seemingly amused.

"Well take this as a lesson! You must leave Trebond or I shall claim your meagre life!" The Ghost warned, before beginning to fade away.

Lady Catherine wasted no time in leaping from the bathtub and beginning to shove various contents from her wardrobe and stuffing them into her bags which were under her bed. In all her haste she didn't hear the laughing of the two youths behind her curtains. Thom and Alanna huddled together, trying to stifle their chuckles with their fists. They had won-this time.

* * *

It was all Lord Alan could do to stop Lady Catherine from leaving Trebond that very night, still soapy and shaking in her boots. But he could not hold her the next morning. As soon as everyone was up she ordered her and Helena's luggage in their carriage and almost half-dragged Helena out of Trebond Manor. 

"But, mother, I don't understand!" Helena cried, as her mother practically ripped her arm out of it's socket, "_Why _are we leaving so soon?"

"I've seen spirits child!" Lady Catherine yelped, sounding half-mad.

Thom and Alanna fought to keep their faces dull and even sad but the twitching at the corners of their mouths gave them away. Coram stared at them, solidly. He suspected them, Alanna knew, but he had no proof. And, even if he did, she knew Coram wouldn't have turned the twins in.

Helena was thrown into the carriage, Lady Catherine clambering after her. Lord Alan rushed forth.

"Must you leave?" he asked, his sadness being genuine.

"Yes, I must! Now get out of my way!" Catherine yelled, as she shut the carriage door herself, "Trebond is haunted witht the spirits of the dead! Be warned!"

"Alrighty, off we go," the carriage-driver said, calmly.

He, along with everyone else, was fairly convinced that Lady Catherine had gone off the rocker. He pulled the reins and the horses hooves clattered against the pavement as they set off. Some servingmen opened the front gates, watching thehalf-mad lady go off in awe.

"Pity," Lord Alan said, looking after the carriage. He opened the book he'd had in his hand and set off indoors, in the midst of his reading.

Alanna took Thom's hand and squeezed it. He gave her one of his rare smiles.

Now that they had rid themselves of Lady Catherine at last, Alanna could turn back to her _real _life obstacle. Becoming a Knight.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope you enjoyed the chapter. School starts for me tomorrow so I'm not sure when I'll update but you can expect it to be soon because I'm intrigued by this story at the moment. Anyway starting next chapter, the story will take place in Corus, at the palace, Alanna being a Squire, of course. So I hope you review. They really do give the Author encouragement to continue a story. 

**winky-wink**


	2. Lady Catherine

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Tamora Pierce except for the plot and minor things I've made up here and there which you, of course, won't even notice. So don't sue me.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be Safe)

**Pairing: **I'm leaning towards Alanna/Jonathan (it goes with the era in her life I'm writing about) but that could change with encouragement.

**Musical Affection: **'Ghost of You' by _My Chemical Romance_.

**Author's Note: Confusedknight: **Thanks for your review. I like the idea of taking small exercpts and making it into a bigger and wilder thing.

**Lela-of-Bast: **Thanks to you too. I try to keep the characters in character otherwise the story doesn't appeal to me much. Anyways, I just remembered Lady Catherine whilst reading this book to my younger friends.

Hmm...what else is there to say? I hope anybody who comes across takes the time to read it over and review 'cause that would really make my day. But I will still continue to write. I don't stop for anything. Anyways, I hope anybody reading (and hopefully reviewing!) enjoy this chapter. Oh and bear with me if some little facts are a little jumbled. Like who's who's Knightmaster and Squire and stuff like that.

* * *

'_Family life is messy, clinging and of an annoying and repetitive pattern, like bad wallpaper_'-Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

Alanna shifted her weight from one side to the other as she held her sword in a 'guard' position. Her opponent, and rather good friend, Douglass, slashed out at her. And fast. But no matter what his speed, Alanna still managed to block and get in a swing of her own. Her reflexes were well-tuned and she managed to throw Douglass' sword clean from his hand. The other squires cheered and clapped their hands at the success of their fellow squire. Alanna gave them all a smile for their ethuasiasm before turning back to Douglass and handing him his sword which had fallen close to her feet. He took it gratefully, although he was disappointed to have lost to Alan of Trebond. Not that it was a surprise occurance. Oh no, it happened everyday. 

"There's not one person that can beat you, Alan," Douglass said, almost sounding jealous.

"Nonsense. Alex of Tirragen always give me a good run for my money," Alanna pointed out, putting away her sword, "And anyways, you're getting far better Douglass."

He smiled at Alan's kindness and put away his own sword. Their sword's master called for them to begin to put away all their supplies for the day. Dinner would be served in ten minutes or so. The elder squires hurried on their way, purposefully. They would each join up with their Knightmaster so the two of them could go down to dinner together. Alanna, Douglass, and Geoffery when up to the west side of the palace that was quarters to each of their Knightmasters.

"I can't wait till the ball 'morrow night," Geoffery said, his voice eager, "I haven't had female companionship for two months!"

"What about that lady you courted for a while? Yuna of something of the other?" Douglass asked, hands behind his back.

Geoffery shrugged, "She was fine. Until I caught sight of her legs.-he shivered-They're hairier than _mine_."

Alanna laughed while Douglass just cringed at the thought. Geoffery turned towards her, a sparkle glinting in his eyes.

"What of you, Alan? Courting any ladies as of recent times?" he teased, knowing how his redheaded friend felt about that sort of stuff.

"No," Alanna snapped back, sharply, "I've got better things to do than worry about romance."

Douglass chuckled, "You'll have to deal with romance someday, you know."

"Not today," Alanna replied, pertly.

"What would your ancestors say? The well-blooded Trebond line stopping at you? You must keep wife someday," Geoffery said, sensibily, "Don't you see that for yourself?"

For some odd reason Alan only smiled.

"Now why do you have that smirk on your face?" Geoffery questioned, eyebrows raised, "I'm being truthful."

"Well, dearest Geoffery, as far as I am concerned I will never _never _ever have a wife," Alanna responded, her grin only grew wider, "You can be sure of that. You'll never see Alan of Trebond married to a woman."

Douglas frowned, "You can't know for sure. No one can foretell the future."

"Oh, I believe I'm making a fair call on this one," Alanna answered, still smiling, she led them down a corridor to their left.

"Then if you don't ever plan to marry a woman...what do you plan to marry?" Geoffery demanded, then snorted, "A man?"

Alanna didn't answer. Instead she broke out into peals of laughter, confusing both her friends. They glanced at each other and shrugged. It was typical Alan behavior to act strange sometimes.

"Well I'm going this way to meet up with Gary. See you too at dinner, then?" Geoffery asked, walking down yet another corridor.

"Yes, of course. Bye," Douglass called after him in a casual way of farewell.

"So, Alan, _do _you like anybody right now at least?" Douglass questioned, once they were well alone.

Alanna was about to answer with a swift 'no' as she usually would of done but then stopped as she thought of Jonathan and the kissed they'd shared in the war against Tusaine. Then she thought of George and the two kisses _they'd _shared before the war against Tusaine and under the tree. Memories of both men made her blush. And she tried her hardest to hide her folly but Douglass noticed that look on his friend's face right away.

"You _do _like someone, don't you!" he exclaimed, excitedly, "Finally someone has caught the heart of Alan of Trebond! _Who _is it? You must tell me!"

Alanna shook her head furiously and that only caused Douglass to pester her all the way to Raoul and Jonathan's rooms. Alanna was glad when they seperated momentarily to get their Knightmasters. She knocked on Jon's door, gently.

"Jon? It's time for dinner," Alanna called through his door, her voice suddenly quiet.

"I'm coming," Jonathan's mumble came from deep within his room, "You can let yourself in."

She opened the door and instantly felt more comfortable in his presence. Jon was one of the few people who knew her secret. That she was a woman. So he was also one of the few people she could truely be herself in front of. He flashed her a quick smile when she entered as he rushed to throw on a proper tunic. Alanna smiled back as normal as could be although her heart started beating slightly faster.

"Oh, can you pass me those papers?" Jon asked her, pointing to a mess of papers on his desktop.

Alanna nodded and handed them to him. She eyedthem momentarily. It spoke of the economy of the country. She sighed. He was already being heavily prepped for Kingship. She hated the thought of him as King. It would only push him farther away from her. From everyone. And yet she knew he had to do it. He'd be a perfect king. Just and Fair, slightly arrogant but good all the same.

"Thanks. Alright, let's go," Jonathan said, heading towards the door. However, he hovered near her for a bit and inquired, "What's wrong?"

Alanna, lost in thought of Jonathan and his becoming the future King, was caught off guard by the question. She tried to focus and jumbled her words together as she tried to answer.

"Uh..erm..well..it's nothing, really," Alanna replied, finally, looking down at Jon's right knee lest her eyes give away her thoughts.

He looked doubtful but didn't question her any further. They were most likely already late for dinner. It did not do to be a tardy Prince. Stepping into the hall the two of them saw Raoul and Douglass coming towards them. Both of them were wearing sly smiles and had michevious eyes that twinkled. Alanna was suddenly weary of their presence.

"Hello Jon," Raoul greeted, followed by Douglass, "And hello to you too, Alan. How've you been? Not lovestruck are you?"

She looked up, utterly shocked. She couldn't believe the gossip that was Douglass. She gave him an angry glare that caused the smile to fade off his face, slightly.

"I don't have a clue as to what you're talking about, Raoul," she declared, sternly.

He laughed, "According to young Douglass here, you understand perfectly well."

"Huh?" Jon looked confused, his eyes darting between his three friends, "What are you talking about?"

"Alan has taken a fancy to someone! But he won't say who!" Douglass cried, before Raoul could even speak. His excitement was infectious and soon even Jonathan was smiling.

"Why, Alan," he joked, "I'm hurt that you didn't even think to tell your Knightmaster about your newest conquest."

He knew as well as her that she clearly was not interested in anyone. Well perhaps that wasn't exactly true. She _was _a bit interested in two different men. Not that she would admitt it, of course.

"Shut your faces, all three of you," Alanna growled, "Or I'll break yer faces!"

Their smiles only grew wider.

* * *

Alanna awoke and groaned. Once again, she was forced to be up even for the damned sun to fulfill her squirely duties. She heard rustling in the next room and knew that Jon was already awake and bustling. She sat up in bed and released yet another groan. Alanna of Trebond was _not _a morning person. The morning air was cold and crisp in her room and she shivered, pulling her sheets closer to her. 

After a while she forced herself out of bed and began to wash her face. The first spray of cold water was rather refreshing. Awakening her like nothing before it. With a new found energy she started to dress and comb her hair. Not that she really had to do much. Her hair was cropped short like any old boy's. Finally she was ready, and with a final glance in the mirror to make sure she had no goo in her morning eyes, she knocked on the door that ajoined her Prince's room to her's.

He opened it and looked her over, quite amused. She was worse for the wear. Bags under her violet eyes and a slight pout to her mouth. His friend could never muster even slightstrength to actually look cheery in the mornings. He made way for her to enter.

"G'morning, young Trebond," he greeted, "Off to breakfast then?"

Alanna gave him one groggy look, eye for eye, then nodded. He smiled and placed an arm around her shoulders to steer her down to the Noble's Mess Hall. Alanna was like a drunk with an extremely bad hangover this time of day.

"Now that we're alone, why don't you tell me about this little...lover of yours?" he asked, corners of his mouth twitching.

She moaned openly before grumbling, "You know that's not true. I'd sooner fall in love with a court lady than a pig."

Her Knightmaster grinned, smugly, "And how do you know I was suggesting your lover was a court lady?"

Alanna stiffened, suddenly aware of how close he was standing to her, his arm slung around her shoulders. Her alertness was immediate and he relished in making her squrim. It was not an easy feat.

"Oh, look! The Mess Hall!" Alanna claimed, with an excitement not her own, before shrugging off his arm and hurrying inside.

She was thankful for losing him. She knew she could not hold out over him much longer if he was near her all the time. His charm was like a sickness that spread through her body. First taking her heart. Then her mind. Alanna would not allow that to happen. Would not allow herself to break her celibacy against love.

Instead she settled between Gary and Geoffery who, though being handsome, were not likely to tempt her urges. They both had nothing but tonight's ball on their minds which made for utterly boring conversation for Alanna.

"You mustn't over exert yourself at the ball, young one," Gary advised, "You need to have a good balance. You cannot be half so flirtaious as Jonathan but you also can't be half so prudent as Alan."

"Hey!" Alanna protested, taking the shot at her with offence.

"Just being honest, Alan," Gary said in way of apology, "You know it's true."

Alanna frowned but Geoffery snickered.

"Alan's not as imbalanced as you think, Gary," he stated, one of his bright smiles playing on his happy face.

"Oh no," Alanna muttered, hiding her face, "Douglass has gotten to you too! Don't tell Gary. You'll only poison his mind against me."

"Now I _have _to know what this is all about," Gary said, definitely.

"Alan's taken a liking to one of the ladies at court!" Geoffery practically squealed.

Gary seemed at a loss for words to say for once in his life. Shock etched all over his strong-boned face. He looked at Alanna as if wondering, '_Who are you and where is Alan?_' Alanna blushed all shades of red.

"Mithros! Who would've thought it?" Gary said, after regaining his composure, "Why who is it, Alan? Who is this wonder woman that has finally captured your heart?"

'_Well_,' Alanna thought, '_This particular wonder woman is so amazing because she is really a man, you see. In fact, my wonder woman is the Crown Prince to Tortall._'

However, what she really said was, "There is no wonder woman, Gareth of Naxen, y'hear me? Behind this story is nothing but lies and rumors."

Gary did not seem convinced. In fact, it seemed everyone preferred to believe that Alanna had finally found someone to love rather than ignore what was so plainly the truth. Did they really believe she would fall in love so quickly and suddenly? Or did they just want to see their loverless friend finally find someone for himself? Or herself as it was.

Soon after breakfast, though, another distraction came. This time in the form of Timon, Duke Gareth's servingman.

"His Grace, wishes t'see ye," he said, simply.

Alanna looked up for the sword she was brandishing, obviously disturbed. What did the Duke want with her? Was she in some kind of trouble? Had her secret finally been figured out?

Seeing the horror-stricken look on her face, Timon added words of comfort, "Don't worry, sir. I dun think he plans to trouble ye much."

Feeling, slightly better, Alanna left Lightning in the care of Douglass before following Timon to Duke Gareth's office. Standing outside the door, she stopped. She heard voices. A man and a woman's. Getting more suspicious by each passing minute she knocked on the door.

"You may enter," Duke Gareth's voice floated out into the hall.

Alanna obliged and opened the door, keeping her eyes on her Duke.

"Good afternoon, your Grace," Alanna said, obediently, bowing.

"Same to you, Squire Alan," he said in return.

Alanna heard Timon close the door behind her and stood straight. The Duke was smiling at her but behind that smile was a hint of another feeling. What was it? Anger? Doubt? No. It looked more like confusion.

"You may greet your Aunt now, Squire," he said, making his order sound like he was giving permission for something.

'_My aunt?_' Alanna pondered, dumbfounded herself.

She turned around and saw the worst sight anybody could've asked for. There sat Lady Catherine. She was aged by seven years but it was nonetheless her. There was no mistaking those tight brown curls and that smirk of a smile. She looked Alanna up and down, a devious look in her eyes.

Alanna forced herself to speak. If she was going to keep up this act, she had to greet her Aunt as any nephew would.

"Aunt Catherine. I am overjoyed to see you," Alanna said with another bow, although her voice was expressionless. She knew that her future lay in the evil hands of this woman. While Lord Alan may not have noticed that there was no Alan of Trebond, Aunt Catherine definitely would. Sharp as a tack, she knew that there were only two Trebond children that were spun from Lord Alan. And maybe she also knew that the boy was at the City of the Gods. Which meant that the boy before her was no boy at all. However, even if she guessed all these things, she gave no inclination.

"Alan, it _has _been too long," Lady Catherine answered, a smile appearing on her face, "My, my, what a squire you have made. And to think, I had not forseen this in your future."

She knew. Alanna knew she knew. The Lioness gritted her teeth. She was at the mercy of a brutal savage!

"Mmm...," Alanna murmured, "Your visit came as a surprise to me, dearest Aunt."

She inclined her head, "That much is obvious."

An awkward silence fell between them. Duke Gareth cleared his throat.

"Well, as you can see now, Lady Catherine of Galla, Alan of Trebond clearly exists," Duke Gareth said, coldly, as if he and Alanna's Aunt had just had an argument over this.

"Clearly," Catherine repeated, her eyes sizing Alanna up, "I'm sorry to have forgotten about you, Alan. What between Alanna and Thom and you being the youngest. Forgive my old mind. It slips up sometimes."

"Oh, of course I forgive you. I am inclined by blood to forgive you," Alanna said, knowing she was treading on dangerous waters.

She couldn't believe Catherine was keeping Alanna's secret under wraps. However, she knew she must be very, very careful. Her Aunt's mind could be swayed easily. Make her angry once and she'd spill the beans.

Lady Catherine smiled, "You are oh so merciful, Alan."

Alanna had the dignity to blush, "Ehm. May I ask, Aunt, how long you are here for?"

"_That _much is undecided," Lady Catherine replied, grinning, "Your cousin, Helena, and I love to stay at the Royal Palace for as long as we can. We shall stay as long as we are welcomed."

Here she looked at Duke Gareth who countered with, "You will be welcomed for as long as you wish to stay."

Catherine smiled, "Fabulous. Well I must see myself off to my rooms. Good day, Duke Gareth. And as for you, Alan, I hope to see you at tonight's ball. I know Helena does."

With that she got up and swept out of the room with her usual elegance. Alanna watched her go, stricken. Helena and Catherine mixed for a very unpleasant visit in the next few weeks. She was shaking in her boots with worry. She could not risk losing her chance to become a Knight after coming so close just because of a wicked old woman and her whore of a daughter! She would not go down without a fight.

Seeing her shake, Duke Gareth misinterpreted what she was feeling, "Don't worry Alanna. I'll make sure they won't bother you much at tonight's ball. You'll be allowed all the usual pleasantries."

Alanna gave him a weak smile, "Am I permitted to leave for jousting?"

Duke Gareth nodded, "But, of course."

* * *

That evening Alanna told Jon of all her worries since he was the only one who would actually understand without exclaiming, 'You're a girl!' or dropping down in a dead faint. He assured her he'd help her to maintain her secret for as long as possible. But it did not calm her at all. She was only sixteen, her seventeenth birthday months away. She had to be at least eighteen to take the Ordeal of Knighthood and win her shield. They could not put off Lady Catherine _and _Helena for another year and a half. It was impossible. 

A sullen and awfully broken down Alan attended the ball that evening. She was beginning to feel hopeless again just as she had when she was a young girl. Lurking in her corner, she was pleased to see neither Lady Catherine nor Cousin Helena.

"Why so down, Alan?"

Alanna looked up. Geoffery's face was heated from his latest dance with Yuna. The lady with the hairy legs.

"No reason that concerns you," Alanna snapped, her temper getting the better of her once again.

He rolled his eyes, "Come on now."

"Is that Yuna I see flirting with Gary?" Alanna asked, trying to divert his attention away from her.

"Where?" Geoffery looked up, frantically, his face suddenly angry.

Noticing the two of them together, he marched off. Stalking with rage. Alanna chuckled. For someone who pretended they didn't like Yuna, he did care an awful lot for her. That was love, Alanna supposed, Loving someone past their imperfections. Like the fact they had hairy legs. Or that they were an arrogant yet charming, spoilt yet kind, Prince. She stopped herself in her last thought with a loud sigh. She really couldn't afford to love Jonathan.

"Hello Cousin _Alanna_," someone whispered in her hear.

She nearly jumped out of her skin at that name. Whirling around she settled when she realized it was only Helena, though not much. Studying her older cousin she wrinkled her nose. It wasn't because Helena was ugly. It was because she was _beautiful_. Something Alanna could never hope to be. Not that she wanted to anyway.

"Don't call me that here!" Alanna whispered back, harshly.

"Alright. Alright. Don't go crazy, now," Helena replied, studying _her_.

Her final remark was blunt, "You're a boy."

"No, really?" Alanna said, sarcastically, knowing she really shouldn't push her luck.

Helena sneered, "I can see that becoming a boy hasn't changed your snarky attitude."

Alanna snorted, "And I can see you're still the same old prig as well."

Her cousin ignored her and instead chose to pose another question, "So what are you now? A page?"

"A squire," Alanna responded with pride in her tone.

Helena made a face as if it was lost to her why someone would give up a life as a soft, beautiful, noble lady to become a knight. There was glory, yes, but at the end of the day what did you get? An aged, bruised, body that had seen horrors no man could or should ever imagine. And that was if you were lucky. And a man. If you were a lady knight then you would also be husband-less and therefore have no children. Or if you did, they would most likely be illegitimate and therefore a bastard. Where was the fun in that? No wonder lady knights were exiled.

Alanna seemed to sense what she was thinking because she added, "It's a wonderful life and I never regret what I'm doing, you know."

Helena wondered for the sanity of this she-male beside her and said, "I don't think it's so wonderful. Besides, you can't flirt with any of the knights, then can you?"

Alanna was about to say she didn't need to flirt when she realized that maybe she _had _been doing a little bit of flirting. Was that thing idle yet embarrassing chatter between her and Jonathan flirting?

"I don't need to flirt," Alanna said, finally, "They're all too much of my friends."

"Like who?" Helena questioned, her interest growing.

"Like Gareth the younger of Naxen. Douglass and Geoffery over there. Raoul of Goldenlake and sometimes Alex of Tirragen," Alanna listed her friends.

"Hmm...they are rather desirable, aren't they?" Helena eyed them, eagerly, "How _do _you hold yourself?"

"I simply don't know," Alanna smirked, sarcasm dripping off her voice like rain droplets did off a leaf. She knew she could hold herself just fine.

"Which of them is your Knightmaster?" Helena implored, her interest growing as the talk of men grew.

"None of them," Alanna replied, smiling softly to herself.

"Then who? Don't tell me you got some old cout like that Fireth of Jakal," Helena moaned, sounding uncharactiscally unladylike.

"I thought you believed him handsome," Alanna grinned, teeth gleaming.

"Not since he got married," she said, solidly, "Now enough of this pussy-footing. Tell me who your Knightmaster is. Whether he be ugly or not. Might as well keep tabs."

"Well," Alanna said, relishing in the moment when she spoke the name of the most handsome bachelor in all of Tortall, "It's Jonathan. Of Conte."

Helena looked to her, the brown-haired beauty's eyes ready to bulge, "Say that again."

"Jonathan of Conte. He's one of my bestest friends."

"Not the very same-?"

"Oh yes. He _is _the very same. That is, if your talking about the heir to the throne of Tortall," Alanna teased, swimming in her sudden trance over Helena, "Why? Are you interested?"

Helena did not reply for quite some time as if she had fallen deep into thought. Her eyes glazed over as her eyes gently roamed the room, landing on the target. Jon was currently speaking to Lady Cythera and Raoul, a grin spread across his face as he spoke animatedly.

"Introduce me," Helene ordered.

Alanna blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Introduce me or I'll reveal your dirty little secret," Helena threatened, not even blanch faced.

Alanna did not need telling twice. She had to do Helena's bidding if she wanted to become a Knight. Cringing, fists balled up, and white-knuckled she made her way to her friends, face red. She hated this. This obeying she had to do. She also hated handing over her secret fancy over to her vindictive cousin.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Much more conversation in this chapter than the last. Anyways, I hope you like it. I try, I do. But if you don't like it I always appreciate constructive criticism. Just review, please. It makes my world go round. 

**winky-wink**


	3. Alanna of Conte?

**Disclaimer: **None of this is mine. None of the characters are mine unless I make up a few fake ones here and there like Helena. Who really is sort of like a portrait of Delia of Eldorne when you think about it...but anyways, just don't sue me.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Still undecided but looking to be A/J

**Musical Affection: **'The Real Thing' by _Gwen Stefani._

**Author's Note:tortall princess: **I can't say much about what will and won't happen in the plot yet. I'll just have to see, won't I? And, yes Helena is annoying and rude and obnoxious and all that crap. She's a true devil's adovocate.

**Kokari: **Helena like Delia? Yeah, actually I saw that. You can even see it mentioned in my disclaimer. She's _a lot _like Delia. I'll just have to have them meet then, won't I?

**Kylie: **I was thinking so too. It also goes with that time in Alanna's life when she was just learning about her feelings about him.

Well...I'm just writing as I go. So not much to say. Just that I'm drifting along right now, hoping to do a somewhat good job on all this ff business. Anyways I hope you enjoy.

* * *

'_God man women beautiful and foolish. Beautiful, that man might love her and foolish, that she might love him back_'_ -_Anonymous

* * *

As Alanna and her cousin walked over to where Jon stood, casually chatting with their friends, she felt Helena come closer to her and link her arm with her's. She wanted to give the impression and they two of them were the closest of cousins. The Lioness tried to move away but Helena had a strong grip for such a tender-looking noble lady and, anyways, Alanna was at her mercy. 

They had caught Jonathan's eye as they came over to him. Although, Alanna realized with a twisting in her stomach, he wasn't looking at her but at Helena. Even _he _realized she was beautiful. And why not? It wasn't like he really had anyone else. There was Delia of Eldorne but he had cast her aside ever since their return from the Drell River.

"Hello Alan," Jonathan greeted her, eyes lingering on her face for a moment before switching back to Helena, "I haven't seen you all night."

"Uh...I was rather preoccupied," Alanna replied, knowing there was no need to give him a proper answer since he was obviously not really heeding her words, "And hello Raoul. Lady Cythera."

She bowed, happy to have inched out of Helena's grasp. Lady Cythera held out her hand as was the duty of any noble lady. Alanna tried to hide her revulsion as she kissed it. She knew Helena would be enjoying this little moment and store it in her mind for later mental torture.

"Yes, and who's this, Alan?" Raoul asked, nodding to Helena, "Is _this _the court lady who has-"

"No!" Alanna cried, horror-stricken, she didn't need to be further embarrassed in front of cousin, "She's Lady Helena of Galla, my _cousin_."

Here, she shot Jonathan a meaningful look that she hoped translated to 'Don't get too friendly with her. She has fangs' but he didn't seem to notice. Insteadhe bowed, gallantly, to her great disapproval and lightly passed her fingers under his lips. Raoul followed suit. Lady Cythera could only bow in a nod her head, jealous of how the tables had turned. Alanna was fuming. And he said he was going to help her through this!

"It's a pleasure, I'm sure," Jon said, softly, a smile coming to his lips, "Any friend of Alan's is a friend of mine."

"I didn't say she was my friend. I said she was my cousin. There's a difference," Alanna retorted, coldly.

"Oh, Alan, do stop teasing!" Helena scolded with a laugh, breaking away the awkward moment, "He's a funny one, isn't he?"

"I can agree to that," Raoul grinned, thumping Alanna soundly on her back.

Alanna did not return the same. She only pouted. Never did she think that Helena's charm get to her friends. She had thought them unreachable. Guess not.

"So, my dear cousin tells me you're her Knightmaster, Your Highness," Helena stated, saying the closest connection they had thus far.

"Mmm, yes. Sh-ehm-he's quite a lot to handle sometimes," he smiled, grandly, and looked at Alanna who just pretended to ignore him. Sensing this he added, "But he's also one of my bestest of friends. Best fighter I've ever seen. Was a true hero in the Tusaine war."

He snatched Alanna up by the arm and held her tight against his side to emphasize his point, though she protested. She had wanted to give him the silent treatment as punishment for being so nice to her evil alter family. But when he looked down at her with those blue pools that some called eyes, lips turned up, she couldn't resist him. She smiled back and Helena quirked up an eyebrow. She was obviously wondering whether or notthe Crown Prince realized his squire, whom he had his arm swung around, was really a girl. Alanna was even pleased to see a hint of jealously at the closeness they shared. She smirked.

"Yes...He's simply astounding. Always surprising me," Helena commented, "Well I'd love to talk some more but I just remembered something I _must _bring to my mother's attention."

"That's apity. Perhaps we'll meet you later? How long are you in Corus for?" Raoul questioned, as he would've to anyone, as a polite gentleman.

"Quite a while, I suspect," Helena answered, and with a quick glance at Alanna and Jon, still standing side-by-side, she left.

"Your cousin is a jewel, that's for sure, Alan," Raoul murmured, watching her waltz across the room, "Wouldn't you agree, Jon?"

"Uh...-he looked at Alanna who acted as if she was oblivious to all this conversation- she's beautiful, if that's what you mean. I don't know so much about her person, yet," Jonathan said, hoping he hadn't said too much to put Alanna into a bad mood.

"Beautiful? Her nose is too small for her face!" Lady Cythera snapped, being used to being the one people called beautiful, "And her hair is the palest of brown. It's a tragedy she didn't get your fiery locks, Alan."

Alanna had never liked Lady Cythera more and was to say such before Raoul interrupted, "Isn't that a bit much? You make it seem likeshe's ugly! Don't tell me you're envious of her, Cythera, m'dear."

"Me? Jealous? Now that's a laugh," she pursed her lips, "I bid you farewell this evening, Raoul of Goldenlake, Alan, Your Highness."

"Aw, now look what you've done, Raoul. You've displeased and perhaps even upset Lady Cythera," Alanna joked, her eyes dancing.

"I was just being practical is all. I don't know what's got her petticoats in a bunch," Raoul shrugged, washing out his words with wine.

"Did you ever think to consider she likes you?" Jonathan joined in the the sudden Raoul-attack.

The bigger boy choked on his wine, "Pardon?"

"Loves you even. Maybe she suspected marriage," Alanna said, grinning.

"Oh no. I don't believe that's true. Women and balls aren't for me," Raoul said, nervously, swirling his wine.

"I don't think the women here tonight see it that way," Jon continued, "Poor old Raoul. Gaining the affections of one of the most beautiful women at court. What a big burden."

"Would be for me," Alanna muttered, unknowingly out loud.

"Well you're a different case, aren't you?" Jonathan countered, pointing out the obvious.

Raoul's face scrunched up in confusion, "Why is he a different case?"

Alanna and Jonathan only now realized their mistake. Trapping themselves amongst their own words. Especially Jon. He faltered in his response, looking to Alanna for aid but she had none.

"Erm...well...he's...rather younger than you, isn't he? Only a squire. Has many years to go before he has to find himself a wife," Jonathan settled, making up for his intial mistake.

"Yes, I suppose. But not _all _that younger," Raoul finished, seemingly satisfied by whatever Jon had made up.

Alanna sighed in relief but Raoul didn't notice. Instead he headed over to where Gary and Geoffery stood, having a heated argument. She couldn't hear it but she suspected it may be becauseof Lady Yuna, who was standing between them, looking shaken. Alanna immediately regretted having distracted Geoffery from their discussion with that as an excuse. However, the Goldenlake Knight looked fully capable to patch it up. The Lioness turned away, looking to the exit out of the Ball room.

"I'm leaving. Good night, Jonathan," she mumbled to him, stepping away.

"Wait!" he called after her, "I'm going too."

"You are? Why? You usually never leave a ball until you have to dragged out kicking and screaming with some Lady on your lap," Alanna snickered at his look of displeasure.

"Not true. But how about I just tell you that I have no Lady at court who interests me," Jonathan sighed, running a hand through his coal black hair.

Alanna raised an eyebrow, "You make it seem as if you have a lady outside of court. You don't, do you?"

It was his turn to laugh. Yet it was mirthless as if he couldn't believe what she was saying. As if he suspected her to know her something. Alanna searched her mind. Nope. She didn't have a clue. He had never mentioned anyone before.

"So what if I do?" he responded, finally, as they headed up to their rooms.

Alanna felt her heart wrench painfully and her stomach turn. He was courting some-some lady and she didn't even know it! And to think she had ever even hosted the idea of the two of them being together. Daydreamed about the day when he would hold her as something other than a friend.

"Oh," Alanna said, face unreadable, she had to strain hard to keep it non-caring and platonic.

He seemed surprised and a little hurt by her reaction to this piece of information. Well, what did he suspect? A loud whoop, followed by insistent questions about who it was and mindless giggling and eternal discussion? No, she wasn't like that. Why did he expect her to be?

"Night Alan," he said to her before going into his room and shutting the door.

Alanna stared at it for quite some time. He was never going to come out so what was the point in just standing there? But she almost wished he would. Instead of going into her rooms, she headed back down to the stables, hoping to get in a midnight ride with Moonlight. She had much to think about. Why not ponder it over with a glass of rum from the Dancing Dove? She'd see George there for certain and maybe even confide in him.

Within minutes she came out into the moonlight, her copper locks looking eerie in the silvery light. As usual, Stefan was there at the stables, tending to Darkness, Jon's horse who was housed next to Moonlight.

"Greetings, sir," he nodded to her before continuing his work, "I thought ye'd be up at ther castle fer th'ball."

Alanna shook her head, "I'd rather be riding."

Stefan nodded once again. This time with a certain respect for the squire. He helped the young Trebond harness Moonlight. The golden horse nuzzled Alanna's shoulder, affectionately when she **(Not sure about Moonlight's sex. I'm going to say girl.)** realized Alanna was there and that there was to be riding. Alanna smiled and stroked her mane.

"Yer in love, aren't ye, lass?" Stefan asked, caressing Moonlight's long and slender neck.

Alanna looked up in shock, mouth gapped wide, "Excuse me?"

A thousand thoughts whirled her mind. _Her? In love?_

"Moonlight. She's in love," Stefan explained, a smile playing on his chapped lips.

Alanna resisted her sigh of relief since it would only cause suspicion from Stefan. Instead she posed a question, "Who's she in love with exactly?"

"That'un yonder," he replied with a jut of the head.

Alanna turned around and saw Darkness, Jon's black stallion, standing there, looking at her with those handsome dark eyes. She felt an odd mixture of emotions that someone didn't generally feel when they realized their horse had taken a fancy to another's. First, she was amused. Secondly, she was warmed. As if the thought of her horse and Jon's horse being in love was some kind of romantic thing that could lead to-possibly-_her _and Jon. She shook away her silly thought. Great Mother Goddess! Hadn't he told her that very night he was interested in someone else?

'_Actually_' an annoying voice in the back of her mind said matter-of-factly, '_He didn't say someone else, precisely. Just mentioned there was someone he was interested in. Why couldn't that someone be you?_'

The Trebond actually shook her head to get the thought out of her mind. Love was a distraction. Distractions often lost you fights. She couldn't risk that. Instead she asked another question, something made to be applied to the horses but she had in mind of it being answers for situations with others as well.

"How do you know-...when someone's in love?" Alanna inquired, trying to seem casual.

Stefan looked at her, closely. More closely than he ever had before. For a second Alanna was afraid of him reading all her secrets. But he looked away after a brief moment and responded, "Well, ye just know, don ye? Its'a feelin' like y'could never stay away from that person. Like y'dd risk it all for the other person. But I couldn't really tell ye. The only creatures I've really seen in love be the horses."

"Mmm...," Alanna trailed off then suddenly slammed back on track, "I should get going if I want to be back at the palace before dawn. Good night, Stefan."

He watched the Firehead ride off with Moonlight, looking extremely graceful and heroic.

* * *

The Dancing Dove was just as wild as most nights with reckless drunks and countless prostitutes at every nook and craney in the bar. As Alanna entered, many of the usuals greeted her, heartily. She nodded in return, face brightening. Some offered her to sit and have a drink but she refused. Instead, she purposefully headed to the bar and asked to see George. She hadn't really planned to come to the Dancing Dove just to see him but when she'd gotten here she realized that was her goal all along. He was one of the few people who knew her biggest secret and therefore was easy to confide in and could understand like no other. Especially now that she couldn't talk to Jon. How awkward would it be to talk to the Prince about his own squire loving him? Very, she decided, glad that George was always around to have a shoulder to lean on. 

A waitress ushered Alanna to a back room, down a darkened hallway, lit only by the faintest of candles.

"Wait in here and he'll be with you in a moment. He just as some unfinished business to wrap up," the waitress gave her a scarily michevious look and Alanna tried not to imagine what that business could be.

She didn't exactly hold it against George. He had no other choice from the path of life he'd chosen. The King of Rogues, she was sure, had to do things, she could think..._un_thinkable. That was the life of a thief for you.

After a minute or two, the great oak door opened and George entered, a wide grin on his face. He shut the door behind him and spoke.

"Alanna, it's been a while," George stated, meaning to pat her arm but ended up stroking it.

Alanna twitched uncomfortably. That was the one thing wrong with George. He _fancied _her. She wished with all her heart that he wouldn't but luckily he didn't act upon it much. And when he did, she took it with as much tolerance as possible because she felt guilty for not returning the same affections.

"Only four days," Alanna pointed out, "Not that long."

"Four days y'say?" George said, thoughtfully, taking a seat, "Feels longer."

Alanna shrugged, "How are you, anyways?"

"Not bad. Not good. Some rebels are causing me trouble. Fortunately, we settled it tonight. Believe me you, they won't be causing trouble anymore," he said with a chuckle. A chill ran up her spine. He noticed and added, "Oh no! Not that.-he laughed again- I don't usually do that."

She gave him a relieved smiled, "Good. Listen, you must be wondering why I'm here?"

"No. I'm just glad to see you. You look beautiful by the way," he commented.

She blushed and tried to hide it behind her hand but he noticed anyway, "Well, actually, I'm here for a reason other than receiving compliments. I came to ask you for advice."

He raised an eyebrow, "The Great Alanna of Trebond asking _me _for advice? On what?"

Alanna took a deep breather, "It's sort of hypothetical. Like...it isn't happening. I just wanted to know what I should do if I were ever in this situation, you know what I mean? It's more like I'm asking for a friend. _Not_ me."

George nodded, slowly, keeping his eyes on hers, as if understanding perfectly. His lips twitched, "I believe I can understand. Give it to me, then."

"Ok. Ok!...ok...Here goes. You see, say there's this girl-"

"What's her name?" George implored, acting innocently curious.

"Erm...Katrina," Alanna answered, feeling hot all of a sudden, "And well, Katrina has a best friend. A _male _best friend. And, recently-"

"What's her best friend's name?" George interrupted once again, this time not able to hide his smile at her obvious discomfort.

"J-uh-J-J-Jack," Alanna spluttered.

"So Katrina has a male best friend named Jack?"

"Yes."

"Go on."

"Alright...where was I? Oh. Um, yes, as I was saying recently Katrina started to realize she might have some feelings for Jack. _Romantic _feelings. But Jack seems oblivious to it all. And it hurts. Hurts a lot. Not that Katrina exactly wants to be having these feelings either, but she can't help it, can she? So, whenever she sees Jack with another woman she feels like a little piece of her heart is breaking. What should she do?"

George stayed silent for a long time. Something had come over him that Alanna had not noticed before. He seemed...sad? She frowned. Why? She hadn't meant to make him this way.

"So Katrina's sure she loves Jack?" he questioned, his voice quiet and frightening serious.

"Love? Oh, Goddess, no! But she knows she likes him," Alanna replied, her body shaking. Was that unshakable feeling love? It couldn't be.

"I see," George said, brightening slightly, though not much, "I suggest Katrina tell Jack. I know the idea may frighten her but perhaps getting it out in the open will help give her some closure. If she's ever to move on, that is."

"Move on?" Alanna blanched, "To who?"

George peered at her across the table and reached his warm hand out and took her cold one, "I happen to know someone who loves Katrina, very, very much. And, even though she is so clearly interested in someone else, he'll wait till the end of the world to get her."

Alanna squirmed, uncomfortably. The whole time George held her hand all she could give about was Jonathan. _Jonathan. Jonathan. Jonathan. _She groaned inwardly from the frustration. Why couldn't she let the Prince go and love the person that had loved her all along?

"I have to go, George," Alanna said, finally, getting up.

George smiled, softly, "I thought you would say that. 'Night Alanna. Just think about what I said, alright?"

Just as she reached the door, she looked back and called back over her shoulder, "Of course."

"Promise me?" he suggested.

"George...," Alanna sighed, not really wanting to.

"Please?" he said.

"Alright, I promise," Alanna said, just to please him before sliding out the door. She knew that was a promise she wasn't going to keep.

* * *

She was foolish. That much was true. What kind of Knight would she make? Faithful was right. She _was _a lovesick girl. Alanna of Trebond looked down at her notebook in embarrassment. Etched all over it, were the words: _Alanna of Conte. _Ugh, not even Delia did this probably. And here she was, a senior squire, knight-to-be-in-training, ajoining her name with that of another man's. She hated herself right now. 

"Alan, please pay attention," the Etiquette Master scolded her, "What are you scribbling? Give that here."

Alanna blushed the deepest of reds. This couldn't be happening to her. Douglass and Geoffery looked at her in amusement, wondering what good old Alan could possibly be writing with such intense concentration.

"I can't, sir. I'm sorry," Alanna said, sinking lower in her desk and trying to stuff the notebook away.

Give this notebook to the Etiquette Master and all her secrets would be revealed. No. No. No. Her chances of becoming a Knight where already cut in half thanks to Helena and Lady Catherine. She couldn't let the Etiquette Master rip apart the rest of the slim pickings.

"Pardon? I do not believe I heard you right," the Etiquette Master said, coldly, clearly not pleased.

"Just give him the notebook, Alan," Douglass whispered in her ear, hoping to talk some sense into her.

"You heard me alright, sir," Alanna said, trying to keep her voice strong but she noticed it waver.

"No, _no_. Tell me I heard you wrong. I think, no wait, I _know _I just told you to hand over that notebook, young man. And I hope you didn't just say no because disobedience is severely punished around here. And for that, I will read the entire contents of the notebook out to the entire class," the etiquette master snarled, looked down his nose at her.

Alanna had one of two choices. Hand over the book and get revealed for the girl she really was and lose the chance of becoming a Knight or to run for it. She was about to choose the latter when the door opened and her Knight in shining armor entered. Sir Myles of Olau.

"Sir Myles," the Etiquette Master greeted him, turning away from Alanna, "How can I be of service?"

"I just came to borrow a few textbooks, good sir," he said, and noticing Alanna, winked at her.

"Which ones?" the Etiquette Master demanded, heading over to his bookshelf.

"Here's the list," Sir Myles said, handing it over to him. It was long. Very long, Alanna noticed to her relief.

"Hmm...," the Etiquette Master searched his shelf, thumbing a few books here and there, "Let me see."

Just then the bell rang for the students to get to the next class. Everyone jumped up, shuffling their books and scrolls together. Alanna thanked the gods and rushed to get out of the classroom with Douglass and Geoffery at her heel.

"Alan?" the Etiquette Master called above the hurry, "A two hundred essay for tomorrow on 'Why not to write notes in class' please."

Alanna hung her head and nodded. However, once outside, her face was flushed from the excitement of escaping. She was free! Off the hook! She was so caught up that she didn't even notice that Geoffery had tugged her notebook out from under her sweating fingers. However, once she noticed the corner of her notebook in her companion's hands, she frantically made to reach for the leather bound secret-keeper.

"Geoffery, give it back this instant!" Alanna yelled, getting heated.

He threw it to Douglass, laughing. The other boy caught it and opened it to the page Alanna had been scribbling on. _No! _All this work, all six years of it, would be for nothing now. Douglass looked at its contents and looked up at his redheaded friend, shock apparent on his handsome young face. Geoffery hastened to get a look at it before Alanna gave him a black eye and looked just as surprised as Douglass had. Alanna sighed. Why not let the whole world read it?

"So...," Alanna said after a while, "I guess you know my secret now."

Her voice could never have been sadder than it was then. Her heart was broken. She'd lose all her friends. Who'd want to befriend a liar? A she-male?

"Yeah," Douglass grinned, "I suppose we do. _Alanna of Conte? _Is that like-Jon's cousin or something?"

"Huh?" Alanna looked up, confused, "I don't think you understand..."

"Oh, we understand perfectly," Geoffery intervened, "You're in love with this Alanna of Conte. She's obviously royalty. But I wonder how come I've never seen her. Is she one of those quiet ones in the corner?"

Alanna suddenly understood what they were getting at. They thought Alan of Trebond and Alan_na _of Conte were two very different people. She laughed in a choked sort of way. Saved again! The Great Mother Goddess really was watching her. Except this time she'd left Alanna with a great mess to clean up after.

"Um no," Alanna replied, quickly trying to make up a story, "She's never at court. Never _ever_. She doesn't like it. And uh, yeah, she's Jon's cousin. About my age and, yes, I do love her. She's the court lady I've been trying to deny."

Geoffery grinned and Douglass followed suit, "We _have _to meet her. Judging from the looks of most of the royal family, she must be a stunner."

"That she is," Alanna said, trying to play along, and grinning to herself at the obsurity of it all.

"Tell me, does Jon know you love his cousin?" Douglass asked, the three were hurrying along to lunch now.

"No," Alanna answered, sharply, "And don't tell him. I prefer him not to know."

"Ah," Geoffery nodded, "I can relate. Once I courted my friend's sister and never heard the end of it when he found out about it. He thought I should marry her or something."

"Yes, and I don't want that between Jonathan and me," Alanna went on, "He _is _one of my best friends."

If Jonathan never found out what could it hurt? Douglass and Geoffery would be satisfied and would stop pestering her about her lover. _And_, as a bonus, Alanna had already credited the fake Conte with a reputation of hating court. Perfect. Perhaps she could manage this after all.

* * *

**Author's Note: **And the plot gets more complicated. Haha. I hope you all liked it. Alanna of Conte, Helena, and Lady Catherine mix to cause quite a lot of trouble for our favourite Lioness as the story goes on. 

**winky-wink**


	4. Meals, Meals, Meals

**Disclaimer: **Hmm...well nothing's mine 'cept the plot and a few characters. If it were...I'd actually have money in my pocket.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **I'll say A/J for now.

**Musical Affection: **'Make her feel good' by _Teairra Mari._

**Author's Note: Padme Amidala2121: **Thanks for reviewing and what do you mean 'how do you send' in your fanfic?

**tortall princess: **I don't know for sure but I think Trebond changed because she married to George who's the baron of Pirate's Swoop so her maiden name changed I guess. And Olau...I don't know. Maybe it's 'cause it isn't her _real _maiden name that it hasn't. Anywho, thanks for reviewing. It means a lot.

I'm very tired and luckily I'm not bored with my latest project. I hate it when that happens. But it's appealing to me pretty well now. Anyways, hope you enjoy.

* * *

'_Sex and meals are awfully similar. Sometimes you joke about the dishes, sometimes you take the meal seriously_'-Woody Allen

* * *

"Does she know how you feel about her?" Douglass asked, lifting his fork to his mouth. 

Normally the three elder squires would've been chatting away with the rest of their friends about all sorts of foolhardly things but today was different. The three sat in a corner of the Mess Hall, far from everyone else. Douglass and Geoffery had only just found out that Alan of Trebond was in love, or so they thought. Alanna wasn't really in love. After all, how could she be in love with _herself? _'_I bet someone like Delia or Helena could could fall in love with themselves,_' Alanna thought, snarkly. She smiled softly to herself and Douglass and Geoffery mistook it to mean something else.

"So she _does _know how you feel," Geoffery grinned, thumping her back and awakening her from her thoughts, "And I'm guessing she feels the same from that goofy look on your face."

Alanna frowned, "And what about the goofy look on _your _face, Sir Geoffery? Or is that permanent?"

Geoffery was about to retort but Douglas cut through with his calm voice, "Come now. Don't start again, you two. If your minds were as sharp as your tongues, you'd realize it's pointless."

The other two fell silent. They continued their lunch in silence for a minute or two before Geoffery raised conversation once again.

"Tell me, is this-_Alanna _as pretty as Delia?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"Anybody's pretty compared to Delia," Alanna muttered, chewing on her steak.

Douglass and Geoffery shot each other looks of utter shock. That was another thing about Alan. He didn't fancy Delia! He was probably the only man in the palace that didn't find her unbelievably beautiful.

Geoffery rolled his eyes, "Just tell me. Has she got good-looks or not?"

Alanna shrugged, "She's tolerable I suppose."

She hated talking about being in love when she wasn't actually in love. How could one express the feelings if they'd never felt them? It was like acting angry when you'd never been angry ever before in your life. Near impossible. Douglass raised his eyebrows.

"You speak of her like you don't even care about her," Douglass commented with his usual adult voice.

"I just don't like discussing my love life, alright?" Alanna snapped, starting to seriously get annoyed.

What was this? The embroidery class at the convent where gossip was tossed around like a ball? She'd never thought that boys cared just as much about matters of the heart as girls. Douglass nodded, respecting her decision. Geoffery seemed extremely bothered and itched to know more about the woman that owned Alan's heart but didn't say anything either. Alanna was extremely glad for it and managed to enjoy the rest of her day fairly well because Alanna of Conte wasn't brought up, not once.

A half hour before dinner, however, the day took another turn for the worse. A servingman came to Alanna, his face flushed as if he'd run a long distance. He caught the squire's sleeve by the elbow to keep her waiting while he caught his breath. Alanna's stomach growled but she waited patiently. She noticed Geoffery tap his foot, restlessly.

"You two go on ahead," Alanna suggested, "I'll be down with Jon in a bit."

"Fine, see you then. Same table?" Douglass asked, rubbing his neck. He'd taken a bad fall on it after a quick duel with Alanna.

She nodded and waved to the two of them as they went. By now the servingman had regained breath and stood before Alanna with the best posture she'd seen on anybody.

"Lady Catherine of Galla wishes you to dine with her tonight in her chambers, sir," he said, repeating the words as if they had been drilled into his mind.

Alanna blinked at him once before replying, "Tell her I decline her request."

She turned to go but the servingman spoke again. This time more timidly. "The Lady says you are to have no choice in the manner. She tells me to tell you that she is otherwise swayed to delve some information out to the ear of His Grace, who will also be present at this dinner."

"Then tell her I'll be there in twenty minutes or so," Alanna sighed, knowing she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

It upset her greatly to be so helpless. To have her destiny in the cruel hands of an old spinster who had probably killed her two previous husbands to gain their wealth. She headed upstairs to her rooms to change and inform Jonathan that she wouldn't be joining the rest of them at dinner tonight. However, he wasn't there. That was odd. It was unlike him to leave for the Mess Hall without her. For some reason that upset her more than having to dine with her Aunt. The squire brushed away her obvious displeasure and began to pull on a clean tunic and a pair of black breeches. Just as she'd strapped on her belt buckle, a knock came at her door. It was the servingman she'd just seen. His breath was heavy once again. Alanna wondered if he had some kind of illness that caused him to respire with such difficulty.

"I'm to escort you up to m'lady's chambers," he puffed, clutching his side.

Alanna looked at him in worry, "Are you alright? You really shouldn't be doing all this running."

"Fine. I'm fine," he breathed, "Had this little problem ever since I was a wee lad."

Alanna nodded but her heart had already melted for the servingman. He looked no older than fourteen. "What's your name?"

"Gommin, sir," he replied, now managing to walk comfortably, "Follow me, please."

He slipped into a crowded hallway and was soon a sliver of grey, making this way through all the other people, commoners and nobles alike. Alanna followed, though with less agility. He was smaller than her, surprisingly, and managed to get out of the human maze before her. The Lioness tried to remember what direction she was going in but Lady Catherine's rooms were far from her's, she realized after the first five turns. Soon, they came upon a large door in a hallway that looked more heavily decorated than the others. They'd entered the visiting noble's quarters of the palace. Unfamiliar faces streamed out of every door, all visiting from the various fiefs of Tortall and she even saw some foreigners. Gommin led Alanna to the seventh door on their right. He was fast, no wonder he lost his breath.

"Here we are, sir," he explained.He gave her a quick smile and darted away before Alanna could even thank him.

She stared after him and he was gone in about two seconds. She shook her head. It hurt to even watch him move. She turned to the great door before her and knocked on it lightly, three times. The chatter she'd heard as mumbles within died down and soon Alanna had the door opened for her by another servingman of Catherine's. She looked to him in thanks before turning to the scene before her. A table was set in Lady Catherine's first room. Another door led out of it, most likely to her bedroom. At the head of white marble table sat Catherine, herself, at the other end was Duke Gareth who had brought along Gary who had brought along Jonathan who sat next to Helena. Alanna's cousin looked extraordinarily pleased by the seating arrangement.

"Good evening Aunt Catherine. Thank you for inviting me," Alanna greeted, and nodded to the rest of them in hello.

"Oh, don't thank me. Thank His Highness. He said he wouldn't dine without his squire," Lady Catherine responded, an odd expression on her face as if she hadn't wanted Alanna to come to this private dinner of her's.

Alanna looked to Jonathan and he smiled to confirm what Lady Catherine had just said. Alanna suddenly felt her face grow hot and looked away from him at Duke Gareth. "Hello, Your Grace. It's good to see you."

He said the same and told Alanna to sit at the only seat remaining. Beside Gary, across from Helena and Jon. She sat down, nimbly, feeling very uncomfortable. Helena eyed her, sharply, watching the way she moved, the way she pulled her chair forward, the way she tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear. Was _this _the sort of behavior that appealed to the Prince?

"We were just talking about you, Alan," Duke Gareth spoke, looking at his aged face in his spoon, "I was just telling your Aunt of your many accomplishments here at the palace."

"And it's all very impressive, my dear nephew," Lady Catherine said in a tone that said she was surprised but not in a good way, "You'll make a good Knight, Alan. That is, _if _you make it to the Ordeal."

Alanna felt the threat under her words and paled. Jonathan must've sensed it too because she saw him clutch his napkin, tightly, till his knuckles went white.

"Of course he'll make it to the Ordeal," Gary said in a boisterous way, "He's the best fighter in Corus! Perhaps in all of Tortall!"

"Gary, please...," Alanna begged him to stop. She didn't need anybody getting jealous and leaking out secrets because of it.

"What? It's true," Gary smiled at her and swung a big arm her shoulder. Helena's eyes glinted when she noticed the Knight's hands on Alanna. But Alanna wasn't paying attention to her. More to Jonathan, to see his reaction. There was none. He only looked down at his bare plate.

The awful pre-dinner talk was once again interrupted by another knock on the door. Alanna pitched her head up, wondering who it could be.

"Oh, that must be our last guest!" Lady Catherine cried, her smile widening from eye to eye.

The servingman opened it and Alanna felt her stomach drop to the floor to see Roger of Conte step over the threshold. He looked as devilishly handsome as ever and Alanna knew Helena's heart was fluttering just at the sight of him. Alanna, personally, didn't care. To her, the most handsome man in the room was still Jonathan.

"Good evening, all of you. Sorry I'm late," he apologized, "I had an experiment to finish up."

Alanna was about to inquire as to what this _experiment_ exactly was when Jonathan interrupted, "At least you're here now, Roger."

The two of them grinned at each other and Alanna felt a strange strangling feeling in her throat. Why couldn't Jonathan understand that Roger was no good? No good at all? However, this thought was cut over by another even more disturbing one as Roger looked to where he would sit. Alanna had only just noticed the empty chair beside her. The Conte Duke came over and settled in it, comfortably. The Lioness had never been more aware of his presence. Great, this was going to be an undeniably horrible dinner with enemies seated on all sides of her.

"Alan of Trebond," Roger greeted, coldly.

"Master Roger," Alanna said in response, not wanting to partake in silly chitchat with this demon of demons.

The maids and servingman came out with the first course and luckily the conversation was kept at a minimum. Alanna eyed Helena and Jonathan in jealously. They weren't blatantly obvious but it was clear they both found each other attractive. They were the beautiful people after all. Both had classic good looks that couldn't be denied. But did that mean they were meant to be together? Pretty and pretty made pretty, was that it?

"So, Alan," Gary whispered into her ear, while they were on the second course, so quietly that no one but her could hear, "Who's this Alanna of Conte?"

Alanna dropped her spoon with a loud clatter on her plate. Everyone looked to her in surprise. She blushed and apologized for being so clumsy. Once they were all looking away again she turned to Gary.

"I remember telling Geoffery and Douglass not to tell anyone!" she hissed, dabbing the spoonful of potatoes and peas close to her mouth but not really tasting it in fright. No one could overhear this conversation or else she was dead meat.

"I thought it was only Jon you didn't want to tell?" Gary mumbled, leaning in closer.

"Mithros! I was hoping it was rather obvious I wanted to keep this...love business under wraps!" she whispered, harshly.

"Don't worry. Not many of us know. They only told their Knightmasters," Gary spoke, looking at her in amusement.

"That's still four more people than the ones that knew yesterday!" Alanna grumbled, watching Roger carefully in case he was listening in. He gave no signs of it and continued talking to Duke Gareth and Helena.

"Oh? And how many knew this yesterday?" Gary asked, daring to become a bit louder, "One?"

"So what if it was one that knew?" Alanna muttered, setting down her spoon, apetite gone.

"Alright, I'll leave you alone for now. But this discussion isn't over," Gary said, sitting back and catching his father's eye, he winked.

Alanna kept her eyes on the back of Roger's head, in case he gave any inclination he'd overheard but he didn't. If he overheard he would know that there was no Alanna of Conte. Mithros, if he claimed that he had no sister or cousin by that name Alanna was in hot water. She tried to distract herself by listening and joining in on other conversations going around the table.

"Lady Catherine of Galla, is it?" Duke Gareth mumbled, "I was never aware that Trebond had some Gallan blood in them. I thought they were Tortallan through and through."

"Oh, but they are," Helena interrupted, "I'm as Tortallan as can be. My father was born and bred in Tortall. His entire line. Same with my mother's."

"Then why is it Galla?" Jon asked, politely, though Alanna could see his disinterest.

"After my first husband died, I married again," Catherine interjected, taking the smallest spoonfuls possible, "This time to Horenchio of Galla. He has long passed away but his name stays with us."

Her Aunt made it sound like she was a grieving widow of two men but Alanna knew better. There were rumors, many of them, claiming Catherine had had her previous husbands murdered so she and Helena could inherit their wealth.

When dinner was over, Alanna was the first person out the door. She wasn't even planning to stick around for Jonathan until he called out to her to wait up for him. She stopped and watched the others go. As the Duke of Conte passed her, he gave her another one of his smirks, signifying the relationship between them. Alanna was relieved when Jonathan came to her side, breaking the Duke's gaze.

The two of them walked to their chambers in a fair silence. They both seemed to be lost in thought about something or the other. Alanna about Lady Catherine and Helena and Duke Roger and what she was to do with all these enemies flocking among her. Jonathan about...well who know's what?

"Alanna," he said after a while, using her real name because the hallways were empty, "Does Gary know you're a-a girl?"

Her eyes bulged to about twice their size, "No! Do you think he knows?"

"No. No, I guess not. It's just that, you two seemed awfully comfortable around each other at dinner," Jonathan murmured.

Alanna looked at him in shock. Where was his head? "Gary and I are always comfortable around each other."

"Yes, but today it looked like you guys were _flirting_," he said, bitingly.

The Lioness blinked and gave a hollow laugh, "_What? _Me and Gary? More like you and Helena."

"Delusional," Jonathan muttered, "You're completely delusional."

"De-what?" Alanna cried, raising her voice, "I can't believe you're saying _I'm_ seeing things that aren't there!"

They had reached their respective doors and each tried to get there first to slam it shut in the other person's face. Instead both doors banged shut stimutaneously, leaving both the people inside feeling angry and a bit sad. Alanna threw herself onto her bed and screamed silently into her pillow. Faithful climbed the bedpost and curled up next to his master.

'_You handled that badly_,' the cat said, giving her an unblinking stare.

"Me?" Alanna whispered, angrily, so that Jonathan wouldn't overhear them, "What about him?"

'_He was jealous. He wasn't in his proper train of thought_,' Faithful purred, licking his paw.

"Jealous?" Alanna quieted, "Of what?"

'_The Prince thought you'd been intimate with his Naxen cousin_,' Faithful replied, being his usual absurd self.

Alanna gave a hollow laugh, "Yeah, right. You make it seem like he fancies me or something."

The sleek black cat didn't answer and that left Alanna even more unsettled than she been before.

* * *

Libraries were possibly one of the Lioness' least favourite things in the whole world. You were sure to never find any action there. Just shelves and shelves of dusty books and scrolls. The palace library, though more interesting than most others, was still a library and Alanna went there with a scowl on her face. Upon entering she gave a small sneeze at the old age scent within. Thom would've loved it here. He would've wandered around, searching everthing for days if he could. Alanna, however, did not share her twin's love of all things magical and old and therefore she made a beeline for the librarian. Her motive was to quickly get in and quickly get out. 

"Excuse me," Alanna said, softly, trying to catch the librarian's attention.

He was an old man with snow-white hair and beard that cascaded to his hips. He wore a shaggy robe and looked as if he really _had _spent his whole life cooped up in this library. He eyed her, through his wiry rimmed glasses, a stern look on his face.

"How can I help you, youngling?" he questioned, clasping his hands.

"Um, do you know where I could find books on the Scanran war in the time of King Derek?" Alanna answered a question with a question.

"Down that way, third aisle on the left," the librarian responded, going back to his precious books without another word.

Alanna gave him an odd, pitying look, wondering when he'd last felt the sunlight on his wrinkled skin. How could anyone spend all their days in here with all the dull quiet and no company? She kept pondering this as she set off to find the books she needed to finish an essay for Sir Myles. She scanned the shelf she was directed to until a big, green, book caught her eye. She slid it out and flipped it over to read the title. It was indeed on the Scanran war, she noted to her sheer delight. She would be out of here in a matter of minutes! Hurrying, she stood, and came out of the aisle she was in. Alanna was passing a table when she noticed her big Knight friend of Naxen was sitting at it.

"Afternoon, Gary," Alanna greeted, "What brings you to the library on this perfect day?"

She tilted her head to read the title of his book. _Economy of Tortall_. The Lioness scrunched up her face in disgust. What a boring topic!

"Oh, just reading," he hummed, caught up in his book.

"Sounds...boring," Alanna admitted, finally, shoving her book under her arm.

Gary only laughed, "Not for me. Tell me, why're you here? Surely not to sign out a book?"

"I am signing out a book, actually," Alanna replied, snootily.

"What a shock," Gary said, setting down his book, "Come. Sit."

Alanna hesitated. She really didn't want to be here in the hushed confines of the library. However, she really didn't have much else to do so she obeyed. Laying her book down the table, she looked up at Gary, expecting another one of his sharp comments.

"I'm glad I can finally talk to you alone," Gary smiled, straightening in his chair.

"Why's that?" Alanna asked, raising an eyebrow. Usually anything Gary had to say to her, he said in front of anybody.

"I wanted to ask about your Alanna of Conte," Gary explained, his smile only growing, "Tell me, how exactly is she related to Jon?"

Alanna gulped, "I'd _really_ rather not talk about this, Gary."

Her big friend frowned, "I always tell you about the ladies I'm courting."

The Lioness sighed, feeling extremely guilty, "Alright. Ask away."

She'd just have to make up a few white lies, wouldn't she? As long as this got back to no one of the Conte line.

"Answer the first question. How's she related to Jon?" Gary implored, eyes focused just on her.

"Erm...well I'm not _quite_ sure," Alanna replied, "You see she's the daughter of King Roald's...erm...brother?"

Gary made a face, "But I thought the King had no brothers. Just two sisters. Roger's mother and another that never comes to court."

"Yes, well I meant sister," Alanna stumbled over her own words, "You've just got me nervous is all. Yes, she's the daughter of King Roald's sister that never comes to court."

"Then she must live in Scanra, does she not?" Gary continued, aiding Alanna with her story in ways he didn't realize, "Because I distinctly remembering hearing that's why they never come to court. The King's sister's married to some high and mighty Lord there, is she not?"

"Yeah, yeah...," Alanna trailed off, hoping Gary would supply her with more words.

"What's her name, again?" Gary muttered more to himself than Alanna, "Your lady's mother's?"

"Uhhh...," Alanna was at a complete loss for words. '_Goddess help me!_' she thought. "I think it's W-wh-"

'_I'm an idiot_,' she thought to herself. Out of all the letters she could've chosen, she chose W! What name did she know that began with W?

"Winfred! That's right," Gary exclaimed, "Lady Winfred of Conte or some such. Didn't change her name because she thought Conte sounded more noble than Rigton."

"Exactly," Alanna grinned with relief. The Great Mother had saved her once again. What would the young Trebond do without her?

"The strange thing is, if they've never come to court, how ever did you meet Alanna?" he demanded, making the smile fall off Alanna's face.

"Erm...we met when I visited Scanra when I was just a kit," Alanna fibbed, trying to keep her face calm, "And we've been in love since."

"You dog! In love at such a young age! Practically bethrothed since the first day you've been here and you don't tell any of us till now!" Gary cried, earning him an angry glare from the librarian, "Raoul's going to be itching to hear all this."

"Gary, hush, please!" Alanna pleaded, eyes searching the library for any eavesdroppers.

"Don't worry. You can count on me to keep your secret," he said, smugly, "Jon won't hear a word of this."

"Good," Alanna sighed, "This love thing is awfully difficult for me."

Gary shrugged, "Isn't it hard for everyone?"

"Oh yeah, like who?" Alanna inquired, rubbing her forehead. It was aching from thinking up all these complicated lies.

"Mm...how about the Crown Prince?" Gary suggested, "But don't tell him I mentioned anything to you."

"What problems has he got?" Alanna growled, "Every woman in Tortall would do anything just to catch a glimpse of him."

"Not every woman. He claims there's one that's oblivious to his love," Gary replied, fingers edging towards his book once again.

"Who?" Alanna was suddenly very interested.

Gary lifted his shoulders and shook his head, "The prig wouldn't say."

* * *

A another very tense month passed for Alanna with Lady Catherine and Helena spending all their days at court. It was very difficult to go about her usual carefree ways when she knew her family had keen eyes and ears that were always on her. And yet, by the end of November, she realizedthat the days till she became a Knight had slid away by one month. Only seventeen more months of this torture till she came across the Ordeal. She almost shook with fright and excitement at the thought. Once she'd gotten her shield, she was out of here and Corus for a long time. That is, if Catherine and Helena allowed her to make it to the Ordeal. 

One gray morning, just as the first frost of the winter had began to creep over the stables and forest, Alanna sat with her usual group of friends, eating an equally gray porridge. Though, it's appearance was less than attractive, it filled her better than the toast or flat cakes the rest of her companions had.

"And then she said we ought to stop seeing each other because I wasn't treating her right!" Geoffery exclaimed, furiously cutting his flat cake which was drowning in honey, "Can you believe it? Says I go hot one second and cold the next!"

"Well she's right, isn't she?" Raoul laughed, "You're just like Jonathan."

"Jonathan? _Jonathan?_ I'd like to think I'm far more controlled than him," Geoffery grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You are but not by much," Alanna added, defending her Knightmaster even though, as of late, their relationship was on the rocks. Thank the argument between them after Lady Catherine's dinner, Alanna thought darkly then said, "Anyways, I don't think it's good to talk poorly about him while he's away at a Council meeting."

Gary nodded in agreement but Geoffery snapped, "You say it because he's your Knightmaster."

"And my friend," Alanna said, not as mad as usual because it was morning.

"You guys think Geoffery's bad, let me tell you what happened between Isabelle and me last night," Douglass spoke, dumbfounding all because he hardly ever mentioned his love affairs, "We went up to her chambers-"

"To do what, dear squire of mine?" Raoul inquired, pleased to put his younger friend on the spot.

Douglass, however, was not perturbed, "You know full well what. Well, as I was saying, we go to her chambers and...well...you know."

He was obviously feeling uncomfortable at this part and Alanna patted him on the arm in sympathy because she often felt the same way about such topics. He smiled at her and went on, "Well after we _did the deed _which you all know, I suppose she wanted to procceed to...other such matters and well...I...-he coughed."

"What was that?" Geoffery demanded, frowning, "I didn't hear you over the cough."

He, Gary, Raoul and Alanna leaned forward to hear him better, causing the dark-haired squire to blush, "I fell asleep."

The men at the table looked at him in horror. Even Alanna, who had not even experienced anything sexual in her life, gapped at him, knowing that was not a good thing to do whilst in a lady's bed.

"No!" Geoffery gasped, always one for dramatics.

"Yes," Douglass nodded, head hung, "It was horrible. I suppose she never wants to see me again."

"Don't say that," Raoul said, trying to seem optimistic but failing, "It's not so bad. At least you were wake _through _the actual thing, weren't you?"

Douglass went beet red to signify that he hadn't exactly told the story fact for fact. Alanna's eyes widened. It was worse than what he'd intially said?

"I sorta fell asleep half way through," he mumbled, quietly, but they all heard.

"Oh Douglass...," Raoul shook his head, sadly, "That _is_ horrible"

"It was a late night!" he cried in his defence.

Alanna sighed, "It's alright, Doug. What's done is done, Coram would say."

The squire still shook his head, impossibly embarrassed. He looked to Gary and Geoffery who were bent double, choking on their breakfast, as they laughed like maniacs. Alanna frowned at them before slapping Gary upside of the head.

"Will you at least _try_ to act sympathetic?" she flared.

The Knight stood attention but Alanna occasionally caught his lips twitch. Geoffery followed suit. Like Knightmaster like Squire spoke a popular saying in the training regimes of the Knights-to-be. The moment passed. Though, The Lioness sensed Douglass would brood over it for the rest of the meal.

"What about you, Alan?" Raoul asked after a while, "Tell us of the new developments with your Alanna."

Before she could answer, Geoffery said, "I only just realized how much alike Alanna and Alan sound. Strange coincidence, isn't it?"

Alanna cleared her throat, "Ehm. Yes. Amazing. Well, as to your question Raoul, we have had correspondance and she's fine."

"Coming to court anytime soon?" Gary implored, eager to meet Alan's lady.

"No," Alanna replied much to her friend's dismay, "Not for a long time."

Just then Jonathan entered the Mess Hall looking extremely harried and worried and upset. It caused Alanna to feel the identical way. Whatever bothered him would bother her as well, she had realized over the years. He noticed them and came over. It was hard not to with Geoffery standing up and waving his hands, hysterically. His sapphire eyes caught her's and she knew there was trouble a-brewing.

"Hello everyone," he tried to smile but failed. Anyone would've been blind not to notice his dismay.

"What's up?" Gary inquired with concern for his royal cousin, "You just look as if you'd seen a ghost."

He met Alanna's eyes again and she also gained enough emotion to comprehend that what he had to say was worse than seeing a ghost.

"I-," he cleared his throat and brightened his face as if faking good news, "While I was in the Council a messenger came to my father to proclaim that Aunt Winfred would be coming to visit _while _being escorted by a Carthaki ambassador and his entourage."

"Carthaks!" Geoffery huffed, indignantly, "They're nothing but trouble. No wonder you're so pale."

Jonathan nodded, numbly, mind lost in worry over the Carthakis. Alanna, however, was lost in worry over the visitor that came _with _the Carthaks. Lady Winfred! Mithros! What was she going to do now?

"Is...is your Aunt bringing any family with her?" Alanna questioned, fright making her voice weak.

Jonathan stared at her oddly, wondering why she wanted to know but responded, gradually, "I don't know. Aunt Winfred has a son, who's in his late twenties named Lincoln but I don't think he'll come with. She also has a daughter of your age. Perhaps a year or two older or younger give or take. Now, _her_, I'm sure is coming. She loves it, the Tortallan court. Her name's-"

"Oh we know her name," Raoul grinned, smugly, giving Alanna a sly look, "It's Alanna isn't it?"

The Prince's eyes bulged at the name he spoke and he looked to Alanna, herself, for explaination. She gave him a pleading look which she hoped translated to, 'Please go along with this. I'll explain later.' It seemed to work.

"Um...yes?" Jonathan answered, looking stupefied, "How ever did you know?"

He posed the question to them all but his eyes were still on his squire. She only shook her fiery head and looked down at her plate. It would be _very, very_ humiliating to explain all this mess she'd created to Jonathan. Right now, she almost wished she'd been kicked out of the training legion instead of having to face Jon about Alanna of Conte.

"Well, it's no point hiding it now, is it Alan?" Geoffery looked to her and she only shrugged. There _was_ no point hiding it. "He's in love with your cousin! Alanna of Conte!"

"He...is?" Jon looked more confused than ever. "Why wasn't I told about this?"

"He didn't want you to know because he was afraid of what you'd think, isn't that right, Alan?" Douglass asked, tenderly, but Alanna kept her face down, unable to meet her Knightmaster's eyes.

"Oh...well it's fine by me, Alan. Though you _must _clear up a few facts for me when we are in private," Jonathan said, eyebrows furrowed as if trying to work out all this new information.

Alanna only nodded, shame etched in every corner of her face. Once Lady Winfred and her daughter came to court, all her friends would realize that she was no more in love with Alanna than she was with her. And they'd _also _realize her name wasn't Alanna for one thing. She was going to be caught and soon. But she _did _have a right to know how soon, didn't she?

"When're they to arrive, Jon?" she asked, silently, as the bell rang for morning classes to begin for the squires and pages.

He waited till all their friends had hurried out of the room, not wanting to see a spat between Jon and Alan over the former's cousin. However, that wasn't the sort of spat that was really to take place if there was to be a spat at all. He watched Raoul slip out the door, before turning back to Alanna, who'd jumped up to leave too.

"You, stay. Sit," he ordered, gently, "We need to talk."

"But I have classes. And my masters do not forgive easily," she tried to make an excuse.

"I'll write a note for you if need be," he waved his hand, "Now sit."

She couldn't disobey so she sat down, her bag plomping at her side. She looked very forlorn and torn between what to do.

"Please, just tell me when they're coming...tell me how long I have," Alanna implored, on the verge of tears.

Jonathan, while awfully frustrated and a little hurt that Alanna hadn't told him about all this Alanna of Conte business, reached his hand under her chin and lifted it up so that she was forced to meet his eyes. All the friction they'd felt since Lady Catherine's dinner died away.

"They arrive a month before Midwinter Festival. That gives you a week," Jonathan answered, "Now, tell me, why should their coming limit your time in Corus?"

"It's a long story," Alanna's voice wavered, "And embarrassing."

The Prince smiled, "We have all day if you need it."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Done. Yay. I'm liking how complicated this story's getting. It makes for interesting plot as I try to get Alanna out of the messes she's been dumped in. Oh and did I mention I love Jonathan? Well if you didn't know, know now I **love** Jonathan. He can be _my _king anyday as far as I'm concerned. ((giggles like a girl at a Jesse McCartney concert)) 

**winky-wink**


	5. Lady Winfred

**Disclaimer: **Hum dee dum...does anyone ever read these things? Well if you do, none of the characters, other than Helena/Lady Winfred/Lincoln/Abigail are mine.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J but that could be subject to change.

**Musical Affection: **'Cemetery Drive' by _My Chemical Romance._

**Author's Note: tortall princess: **Yeah, Jon was horrible in the third book. The whole Alanna of Conte thing is embarrassing...luckily I helped her out there a bit. You'll see. I'm glad you feel what my characters feel. I try to make the readers feel connected. Oh yeah, George is great too.

**Haven: **Thanks. I hope you stay addicted.

**rachel: **I liked the Alanna of Conte idea too. It wasn't in the original plot but it just works. It's cute and I liked it, is all.

**Kokari: **Yes, I know. I love these embarassing difficulties.

* * *

'_My dear young lady, there was a great deal of truth, I dare say, in what you said, and you looked very pretty while you said it, which is much more important_'-Oscar Wilde

* * *

"...And _so _they of course wanted to know what her full name was, fief and all and my mind blanked so I just blurted out Conte," Alanna explained, hoping that Jonathan was buying her horrible lies. 

He gave her an odd, suspicious look before repeated what she had just said slowly, "So, let me get this straight, you were writing '_Alanna_' in your notebook which Geoffery and Douglass snatched and read. Then they thought Alanna was the name of your secret lover and asked you her full name. You said Conte."

Alanna nodded, vigorously, praying against all odds that he believed her. She just couldn't do it. She just couldn't tell him that she'd been writing Alanna of Conte over and over again like a lovestruck noble lady at the convent.

Once again, he studied her carefully, as if checking to see if she was lying. She kept her face as smooth as possible, "You said it just like that? Conte? Out of nowhere when you could've said any other lesser known fief?"

She shrugged, hoping her act was good enough to get her off the hook, "I was stupid, what can I say?"

"Well I won't argue with that last point," the Prince grinned, "You've gotten yourself into quite a mess."

"You will help me, won't you?" she asked, concern etched all over her small face, "Or else I really am toast."

"Do you even need to ask?" Jon sighed, "We'll have to talk to Aunt Winfred and Abigail-that's my cousin's _real_ name-once they get here. I don't know them too well but I have an inkling they might help us out."

"Why?" Alanna questioned, grabbing her bag, knowing she ought to go.

" 'Cause a few years back, Aunt Winfred commissioned for girls to become Knights," Jonathan answered, "Of course it didn't fall through. She got all huffy and said she didn't want to be part of a court where women didn't have the same rights as men. That's _really _why she never comes to Tortall. Perhaps, knowing your a girl and all, will soften her and Abigail into aiding you."

Alanna bit her lip, "Would I _have _to tell them I was a-a...girl?"

"I'm thinking so," Jon nodded, then it seemed reality hit him because he said, "But for the time being, you need to get to classes and I need to help with the arrangements for the arrival of the Carthaks and my Aunt."

The Lioness bid her Knightmaster farewell before hurrying off to her first class of the day. She didn't like her destiny lying in the hands of all these unreliable people. Catherine and Helena were bad enough but now there was also Lady Winfred and this-_Abigail _to be worried of.

* * *

The week seemed to pass way too fast for Alanna's liking. She wished she could've somehow slowed it down and basked in a time before the arrival of the Scanran Contes and the Carthaks. Everyone else seemed either grim or excited for the coming of their guests. Most giddy of all were Alanna's group of friends, who were head over heels in joy at the thought of finally meeting Squire Alan's love. Alanna, for her part, tried to act as happy as possible but it was a hard task when she really felt so sick and horrible. The worst of these days was when she awoke on the dawn of the eighth day. The royal guests were due to arrive early this afternoon. That night heralded a ball in their honor. For the first three minutes, Alanna lay, sprawled on her bed, blinking at the rising of the eastern sun. For a few tranquill moments she was completely calm, until she sat up and realized she would have to face Lady Winfred and Abigail today. Streching her neck, she went over to her sink to wash away the sleep from her eyes. A few minutes later there was a knock at her door. She opened it and was flanked by a very cheery Geoffery and a rather more subdued Douglass, who led her down to breakfast. She said she planned to wait for Jon but they told her he'd already gone, busy with the final details of the arriving guests. 

"Speaking of our royal visitors...I can't wait to meet Alanna," Geoffery grinned, hands neatly tucked behind his back, "How about you, Alan?"

"Oh, huzzah," Alanna said, sarcastically, rubbing her eyes.

"Come now. I know that's just the morning talking," Geoffery teased, "We all know what you're _really _feeling."

Alanna looked at her friend and gave him a wistful smile, "You have no idea how I really feel."

"Look, even the Mess Hall's been decorated for the coming of Lady Winfred and the Carthaks," Douglass pointed out, diverting attention away from the talk of Lady Alanna.

It was true. King Roald had gone all out to welcome his sister and to impress the Carthaks, who were known for their grandeur and luxury. Flowers, paintings, antique artifacts were shelved everywhere, giving the entire palace a very sophisticated and powerful feel. King Roald was clearly saying that Tortall had wealth and wasn't afraid to use it.

As they sat down to breakfast Geoffery said, "Just think. By the time we sit down to our next meal, they'll have arrived maybe. Or just be arriving. We have to go peep in the Great Hall to see if they really have come."

"Geoffery, can we talk of something _other _than our guests?" Alanna snapped, temper running short.

He gave her a shrug, "I thought that you of all people would want to hear more about the guests, seeing as to who's coming along with them."

"It just makes me a bit nervous is all," Alanna replied, telling the truth in a way.

"Why?" Douglass implored, biting into his morning ham, "Are you afraid she doesn't love you anymore or something?"

"Course not," Alanna responded, pertly, "Once you fall in love with someone, you don't fall out. That's that. Right?"

Douglass and Geoffery looked to each other before the latter, blonder one, said, "I hope that isn't the case because I've believed myself to be in love twice and I've fallen out of it twice."

"If that's the case than what you were feeling wasn't love. Not true love anyways," Alanna said, firmly, spooning her usual gray porridge. She'd added a bit of honey to it today.

"Since when did you become the love expert?" Geoffery demanded, raising his eyebrow.

"I don't think I'm an expert but I know the basic morals," Alanna decided, looking at Douglass at get his opinion, "What'd you think, Doug?"

"I think...you're correct...to an extent," Douglass said, choosing his words carefully, "But, I don't believe you can love just one person all your life. Many people have first loves that never work out. However, once you've found the one that is a love that should never die."

Alanna and Geoffery looked to Douglass, awed by his unwavering wisdom and intellect. He almost always knew the thing to say. He was a good care-giver to all situations with his soothing and calm tones.

"I stand corrected. _You're _the love expert," Geoffery murmured.

"I guess you're right," Alanna said thoughtfully, eyeing Douglass and wondering what secrets he kept in that fine head of his.

"Guess? Tell me, do you still love your first love? Or even if you do...do you see a future?" Douglass inquired, finishing his breakfast.

Alanna actually thought before speaking. Her first love? She'd never had a love period. Or was that true? Jonathan..._he _was potentially a crush but love? Maybe so, maybe not. Even so, she didn't know if she saw him in her future. He would be King. She...couldn't be a Queen, could she?

"I don't know," she admitted.

"You'll know soon enough," Geoffery stood, also having finished his meal, "Once Lady Alanna gets here."

"Oh yes," Alanna grumbled, "_Her._"

* * *

When the bell rang for lunch, Alanna scurried out before either Douglass or Geoffery could stop her. She rushed to the Great Doors that led out of the palace, down to Corus. She wanted to see for herself whether or not the Scanran Contes and Carthaks had joined their leagues or not. If they had, she decided she would find Jonathan, who was sure to be present to greet them, and talk to his family with him. 

The front foyer of the palace was crowded with people. Almost all nobility. Jonathan, King Roald, Queen Lianne, Duke Roger and Duke Gareth stood at the head of them, dressed in the regal colors of midnight blue and silver. It was obvious the guests were just about to arrive. The large stone door juttered and, then with a sudden swing, it flung open from the strength of the Knights of the King's Own. A royal procession entered, at it's head was a Lady, that could only ever be Jonathan's Aunt. She had long black hair, identical to her nephew's and her brother's. Her eyes were as blue as their's too. She was King Roald's face on a woman's body. Alanna looked to her sides to see if her miniature was with her. She did notice young women, that much was for sure. But she realized many of them must be servingmaids. There were eight ladies that escorted Lady Winfred. They all had dark skin like the Bazhir or some even had skin as black as night. None of them had pitch black hair or sapphire blue eyes so it was hard to tell who was Abigail. She must've taken after her Scanran father. Right behind the frosty and royal northerners came the tanner and exoctically handsome forms of the Carthaks. The Carthaki ambassador, obviously a man with a dazzling smile and mysterious gray-green eyes led the rest of them inside. In the sudden jumble of greetings and hornblowing and talks, Alanna lost sight of who was who. They all looked alike from this far away.

"You little sneak!" Geoffery whispered, furiously, creeping up behind her, "You came to see your precious Alanna without even telling us!"

Alanna made a face, "Yes. That's _exactly _what I was doing, Squire of Meron."

She rolled her eyes, unaware that Douglass noticed. He stored the memory of it to ponder over on a rainy day when excitement wasn't overwhelming them all. The three peered around the corner and searched the crowd for any sign of Lady Winfred's, now infamous, daughter.

"Did you see her?" Douglass asked, curiousity getting the better of him.

"Um...yes," Alanna shrugged, giving a casual reply, "Yes, I did. We'll meet later I suppose."

"And was she as beautiful as the first day you saw her?" Geoffery joked.

"Yes, yes. She was lovely. Dazzling. A gem among stones," Alanna grumbled in reply, hoping they would take her sappy words to heart as that of a person in love. A _boy _in love.

"Hmm...I wonder when we'll see her?" Douglass said, thoughtfully, "No sooner than the ball I guess. Well, come on you two. We don't want to be late for afternoon tasks. I want to get a little bit of extra swordplay in there."

Alanna and Geoffery looked hungrily to the full hall before them, before turning and heeding Douglass' words of wisdom. The afternoon bore on, almost painfully slow. Alanna was itching for the time when Jon would ask her to meet Lady Winfred and her daughter. Finally, when the final bell rang for the day, Alanna hurried up to her room, hoping to catch Jonathan and squeeze information out of him. Fortunately for her guiltier urges, he was there.

"Jonathan!" she cried, relief clear in her face, as she threw the door ajoining their rooms open, "Gods bless, you're here!"

"And gods bless _you're _here," Jonathan grinned with equal enthusiasm, "I've been looking for you all day!"

"Have you?" Alanna couldn't stop her blush even though she knew he didn't mean it that way.

"I've been looking for you too," she murmured, quietly.

"Yes, well I've good news to deliver," he continued, oblivious to her strange behavior, "Concerning Aunt Winfred and Cousin Abigail."

"They'll help me out?" Alanna asked, hopeful.

"Even better," Jon answered, his smile widening, "Abby isn't even here! You don't have to worry about her at all! Just tell your friends, she hasn't tagged along. Make up an excuse for her. Anything will work really. And then, you're off the hook!"

Alanna let out a whoop of joy but it choked in her throat when it was halfway out. She'd just remembered a fine and horrible little detail. Jonathan frowned, "What's wrong?"

"I-," she croaked, "I just realized I already told Douglass and Geoffery I'd seen her. Said she was beautiful and what not."

"That doesn't mean a thing," Jon responded, firmly, "Say you were mistaken."

"About my love? Jon, please, they're already suspicious of me. They see how I act. It almost seems like I'm _not _in love to them," Alanna sighed, feeling helpless, "This'll take the cake and I'll get questions. Many of them."

Jon looked at her, seemingly feeling what she was, "So, what are you saying?"

"I don't know!" Alanna exclaimed, collasping into a chair drawn to Jon's study, "I'm saying I now need this Lady Alanna to exist or I'm dead!"

He didn't seem to know what to say. He sat into a chair, a little ways away from her's and thought over this muck they were in. Alanna just looked down at her hands, cursing her careless mouth. She could've said the opposite and no one would've been the wiser. Damn the flab of skin under her nose! Why did Mithros ever give them mouths when they usually got most into trouble?

"I may have an idea," Jon said, quietly, after a while, "Come with me, now."

Alanna was in no position to argue so she followed him, not really looking at the direction in which they were headed. She felt like a fly making it's way through honey, as she took heavy, lost, steps. After a while, she noticed they were heading towards the general direction of the visiting noble's quarters. Jonathan stopped in front of a door, even grander than the one that led to Lady Catherine's rooms. She opened her mouth to speak but Jon put a finger to his lips and knocked on the door. They waited a moment before a servingmaid came to the door and opened it for them. Seeing, Jon, she curtsied and mumbled, "Your Majesty."

He stepped in, Alanna at his heel, "Where is my Aunt?"

"Here I am, nephew-of-mine," a wheezy voice called from a cushioned chair in a darker corner of the extravagant room, "I am surprised to see you again before the ball."

Jonathan used his Gift to light a lamp near the voice, revealing the woman with King Roald's face. She had changed clothing and was now wearing a maroon and gray ensembled gown that had a high and tight closing at the neck. Even so, she looked very elegant and played the part of a perfect noble lady well.

"I was hoping to speak to you in private actually," Jon admitted, and then looked to the servingmaid in the room.

Lady Winfred of Conte raised a smooth and plucked eyebrow but said, "Carly, out please."

The maid nodded and scurried out of the room, obediently. Alanna watched her go wistfully, wishing that could've been her. So was her longing that she didn't even notice when Lady Winfred's eyes rested on her.

"Who's your handsome friend, Jonathan?" she questioned, politely, "I haven't seen him ever before. For if I had I would've been sure to remember that fire hair and-look up at me, boy-my what eyes!"

Alanna blushed and Jonathan replied, swiftly, "This is Alanna of Trebond."

The Lioness looked at him angrily, wishing he hadn't been so straightforward, so suddenly. What would this fine lady say when she found out another one of her kind had chosen this she-male sort of life?

"Alanna?" Lady Winfred repeated, smiling to herself, "An odd name for a young man such as yourself."

"Alanna is no man," Jon went on, urgency apparent in his voice, "Alanna is a girl."

She had expected a million different reactions from Lady Winfred, most including words such as 'treason', 'horrible', and 'unthinkable.' Instead she surprised her with saying a brisk, "I see. Sit down the both of you. Even I can tell when a long explanation is to come."

Here, the prince looked to Alanna for support. Surely she could tell her own story better than he could. Alanna gulped, licked her lips, and began. She talked about how she had come to the training in the first place and how she'd hidden her identity from all but Jon and a fewvery goodfriends down in the city. Lady Winfred listened with an eerie quiet and rapt attention that made Alanna nervous the whole time. The squire tried not to look the noble lady in her face, whilst speaking. That would be too much like talking to the King. After she had finished, a long silence fell over the room. Alanna could see the sun setting outside Winfred's window.

"How can I help in all this?" Lady Winfred demanded, after a while, "What's her problem?"

"You see, as of late, her secret has been at risk of revelation," Jon replied, making the situation sound lighter than it was, "Everyone thinks she has a lover, you see. And they think that lover is Alanna of Conte, your supposed daughter."

"My daughter?" Winfred grinned, for a soft noble lady her eyes glinted in an awfully mischevious way, "You have quite the story, Alanna. But why did you claim your fake lover to be my daughter? Why of the Conte line? There are many lesser know fiefdoms that would've been easier to work around."

Alanna hung her head, "I was _stupid_, alright?"

Winfred continued to grin, "Well then I'll just have to help you create this Alanna of Conte, won't I? You're lucky, squire, that I hardly ever come to court. No one knows my daughter. Not even Roald. Barely even remembers her name. Changing Abigail around to Alanna won't phase him at all. Only person that you ought to be the slightest bit worried about is my nephew, Roger. He knows my daughter rather well. Saw her naught but seven years ago. Even so, he isn't likely to remember the name all that well."

"That's all good and true," Alanna raised a corcern, "But what of Alanna of Conte, herself? Who's to play her? One of your servingmaids?"

"Goddess no! All my maids are slaves from Carthaks. Gifts from the ambassador. Anyway, giving away such a secret to a servingmaid is foolish. They all gossip far too much. Tell them you're a girl today and by tomorrow Duke Gareth will have you banished from Corus," Lady Winfred said, understanding the human mind and it's nature very well, "No, there is only one that may play my daughter."

Jonathan and Alanna, who were hanging onto her every word listened on for about two minutes, waiting to hear who'd play Alanna of Conte opposite Alanna of Trebond. However, she didn't speak again, thinking the answer was far too obvious to have to say.

"Well?" Alanna asked, impatiently, "Who's to dress up as Alanna if not a servingmaid?"

Lady Winfred blinked, "Silly girl! Who else but you?"

"_Me_?" Alanna yelped at the same time Jon gasped, "_Her_?"

"Of course," Winfred smiled again, basking in her knowledge over their lack of it.

"I can't," Alanna said, breathlessly.

"And why not?" Lady Winfred snapped.

"For one thing, what will we say about where Squire Alan's disappearing off to whenever Alanna's around?" Jonathan inquired, giving their side of the argument a voice of reason.

"Dear Jonathan, Alan of Trebond and Alanna of Conte need not be seen in the same room as each other so long as they both exist," Lady Winfred waved a pale hand, "I'll make an excuse for my daughter's absence during the daytime. I'll say she's off marketing or some such."

"What if I get sent away to Squire's tasks out of town?" Alanna implored, slowly regaining her composure after the intial shock, "What then?"

"Jonathan is your Knightmaster and he decides where you go. Since he's in on our little deal I'm sure he won't do any such thing," Winfred replied, always keeping a quick response on hand.

She countered every argument with a reasonable answer and it frustrated Alanna to all end's. She couldn't-she _wouldn't _play the part of a soft noble lady! Acting as royalty would mean wearing dresses and attending banquets and dancing and all those things she hated!

"I won't do it," she declared.

"Then you'll never be a Knight," Lady Winfred said with the same conviction as Alanna, "Don't you understand, prettyness, that becoming a Knight sometimes means compromise? Submission?"

Submission. That word struck Alanna as important. She'd remembered submitting to a certain darkness in her years as a page and having being saved by her sword, Lightning. She knew, right at that moment, that Lady Winfred was right.

"Fine," she gave in, "I'll do it. But you'll have to help me. I don't know the first thing about being a noble lady."

Winfred smiled a smile that was already beginning to annoy Alanna, "We can fix that."

* * *

"Not here?" Gary muttered, blankly, "But you told Geoffery and Douglass you saw her!" 

"I did," Alanna replied, "But she's gone off to visit the neighbouring fief and won't be back for another week."

A week was what Lady Winfred had given her to learn to become a likeness to Abigail and more importantly, a noble lady in general. Her lessons were to begin tomorrow evening in Winfred's chambers. Alanna shivered. Even though Jon's Aunt had told her she could be lenient with the copying of Abigail's behavior because no one knew the young lady well enough to decifer personality other than Roger of Conte, she was still worried. Roger was sharp as a tack and make a false move or say one uncousinly word and he would have her trapped. Then again, maybe he wouldn't be so terrible when he thought her family and a lady.

"By the Black God!" Raoul cried, "And I was getting excited to see her."

"You will," Alanna reassured him, "You will, I swear it."

* * *

That evening, Alanna's lady lessons began. First thing was breaking her horrible habit of walking like a man. It was extremely difficult to take the tiny, gliding, steps of a woman after so many years of wide, lumbering ones. She tried it first with breeches then with dresses. Progression had to be quick because they didn't have all that much time. 

"I told my kingly brother that my daughter, Alanna, is coming to court in a week's time," Lady Winfred stated, watching Alanna as she walked from one end of the room to the other in the usual womanly fashion.

The Lioness looked up sharply, "_And?_"

The royal Aunt had a bad habit of finishing sentences just as they were getting interesting.

"And he said fine," Winfred smiled once again, "Didn't even flinch at the sudden change of name just as I thought he would. My sister-in-law scrunched her face a bit but in the end seemed to decide she'd had the wrong name in mind. Only one that did a real double take was my nephew, Roger. Then again, he always _was_ the clever one. You must be your most ladylike whilst in his presence. He will notice in a second if you make a mistake."

Alanna nodded, sweating at the thought of Roger and the close proximity they'd bound to have to come in of one other.

The second night of lessons was all about make up and face coloring of other sorts. Lady Winfred showed her how young ladies painted their lips and lined their eyes and added rouge to their lips. When she'd done with Alanna, the squire looked like a mini-Delia. She flinched.

"Don't crease your face like that," Winfred scolded, "It ruins your beauty."

Alanna snorted, "Beauty? As if."

"A lady with no confidence is no lady at all," the noble lady quoted, "Now go wash off your face. You will attempt to reapply the same face paints to your face in a way identical to the style I've put on you."

Alanna grumbled all the way. As she was about to wash her face, she glimpsed herself in the mirror once again. She'd never admitt to Winfred in a billion years but she had to say she thought herself better than tolerable with this face paint on her. What would Jonathan say if he saw her now, she thought fleetedly, before erasing the thought from her mind. He'd just think she was a boy with make up is all.

Trying to put on the make up was harder than she'd thought. Her lips were all right but the lines over her eyes were slightly wobbly and the rouge was a bit too bright. She grimaced. She looked like a court jester.

"Not bad for the first time," Winfred comforted her, "Wash it away and go off to your own quarters. We can continue this tomorrow."

On her way back to her chambers, Alanna bumped into Geoffery and Gary, discussing some bet or the other.

"Evening you two," Alanna greeted, yawning lightly. She'd hardly had any sleep last night.

"Same to you," Gary responded, "Where were you all this time?"

Alanna opened her mouth to make up an excuse when Geoffery interrupted, "Why're your cheeks so red?"

She blushed, adding even more red than there had been before, "Perhaps I'm catching a fever."

She gave them hurried farewells before rushing back to her rooms. She'd been sure all the rouge was off before she'd left the room! Obviously she hadn't washed thoroughly enough. This is what came of make up and it's stupid purposes of flirtation and beauty! Reaching her doors, she noticed Jon's were open a creak. Knowing she shouldn't peep, she turned to her own doors. Suddenly she heard another voice within. Jon wasn't alone. Her heart flipped and her stomach turned over. Worse yet, the other voice was female. Alanna couldn't help it. She creeped to the crack in the door and brought her ear forth.

"Where does this door go?" asked a seemingly innocent and musical voice. It was Helena's.

"To Alan's chambers," was Jonathan's gruff reply.

"Why are your rooms ajoining?" Helena posed another question.

"It's tradition for a Knight and his squire to share linking rooms," Jon explained.

Alanna heard the dragging of a chair from a table. It stopped, abruptly. She wished she could peer in but then she'd be caught eavesdropping. No matter how much she wanted to, she didn't want Jon thinking she spied on him all the time or something.

"Oh," Helena's tone was expressionless. Alanna heard the bounce of springs as someone settled onto a bed, "You have a nice bed. But I'm betting you don't use it much, do you? Being a knight and all."

Alanna's blood boiled and temper rose. A white-knuckled hand clutched Jon's doorknob to stop her from doing anything stupid. She didn't quite like how the conversation had gone from doors to beds. It could have a very distressing ending, Alanna thought, nervously. Almost jealously.

"You'd be surprised," Jon murmured, "I use my bed quite a lot."

"Do you?" Helena sounded genuinely interested, "Do you ever share it, Highness?"

Alanna was about to run in there, punch Helena, and scream and scream and scream in her ear till her lungs collasped until Jonathan spoke first, "Lady Helena, I don't know what your intentions were when you ran into me tonight in the hall but they obviously aren't the same as mine."

"You don't find me attractive then, Your Highness?" Helena mumbled in sorrowful tones. Alanna gritted her teeth, hoping Jonathan could outlast her charm.

"You're beautiful, Lady Helena, but I have...distractions at the moment. Please, leave me be?" Jonathan's last words were almost pleading as if it hurt him to let such a pretty lady go. Yet let her go he did.

Alanna realized that her position at his door was not the best if Helena were to exit so she made it seem as if she had just rounded the corner when Jon escorted her cousin out of his room. He eyed her, sapphire pools bright.

"Hello Alan. I haven't seen you at all," he smiled and she felt her heart turn to honey.

"Mm, yeah. That's too bad. We should go riding tomorrow. Invite Raoul and Gary and their squires so it'll be the whole lot of us," Alanna suggested, eagerly hoping for this event to occur. It was rare occasions lately when she found time to spend with her closest friends.

Helena cut through, crossly, "Dearest cousin, may you escort me back to my chambers?"

Alanna was about to argue that she didn't even know the way but then decided it was useless, "Of course."

They bid Jonathan good night and left for Helena's quarters. Helena had an arm on Alanna's forearm and they looked an extremely attractive couple what with Helena's long, golden gown and Alanna's golden tunic.

"Do you know why I asked you to escort me tonight?" Helena demanded, checking her nails for dirt. There was none.

"Certainly not to keep pleasant company. We'll just bite each other's heads off," Alanna said, sarcastically.

Helena had the dignity to laugh, softly, "You always were good at making me laugh, cousin of Trebond. No, you're quite right. Not for the company. I had a question for you, actually."

"Oh?" Alanna said in suspicion.

"I wanted to know if the Prince realized you were a girl," Helena questioned, then darted her eyes to Alanna's face to catch signs of lying. Alanna checked to see if anyone else was in the hall. None, luckily.

Of the questions she could've asked, Alanna wasn't exactly prepared for this one. But her answer was clear. She must lie. So, keeping her face as straight as many did in the Yamani Islands, she replied, "No. I'd be out of the castle by now if he knew."

She felt Helena's eyes linger on her face for a moment longer but then she looked ahead, grinning. She was satisfied. When they reached her door, she gave Alanna a swift good-bye and tucked into her room for the night.

Alanna frowned at the door. Helena would've made a good General. Always thinking her steps through, getting information subtly, knowing which battles to pick. Alanna sensed her cousin was soon going to pick a battle with her. A battle over a certain man's heart. The Lioness shook her head. These past few days had been rather confusing.

Heading back to her room, she realized Jon's door was still open. This time she made her presence known by knocking on the door, gently and letting herself in. He was hunched over his table, black hair tousled. His eyes were wide with sleep. She shut the door behind her so they could have some good quality, useful, talk time.

"I knew you'd be back," Jon grinned, "To ask about what your cousin was doing in my room, no?"

"Actually," Alanna found herself blurting, "I heard. I eavesdropped. I'm sorry. I know it was a Gary-type thing to do."

Jonathan just smiled, "Don't worry. I'm not angry. You caught one of my more honorable encounters with a lady of court."

"I can't say you didn't surprise me," Alanna admitted, "You don't usually turn beautiful women away from your bed."

He shrugged, "I told you I already had someone, didn't I?"

"Yes, but..." Alanna trailed off.

"But what?" Jon said, eyebrows raised, "I love this other person or, at least I think so. All the Helenas and Delias in the world mean nothing next to her."

"I didn't realize she was so special," Alanna commented, trying to keep the envy out of her voice.

Jonathan grinned at her in an oddish sort of way, "Oh, she's _very _special."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Not many new progressions in this chapters. Next one will be funnier and more interesting though. Alanna finally has to pose as Alanna of Conte in the next one. Anyways, thanks for reading this far and I hope you review! 

**winky-wink**


	6. Feetkillers

**Disclaimer: **Hum dee dum...does anyone ever read these things? Well if you do, none of the characters, other than Helena/Lady Winfred/Lincoln/Abigail are mine.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J as of now.

**Musical Affection: **'No Daddy' by _Teairra Mari._

**Author's Note: Kokari: **Yeah, how much more special can you get an posing as a boy, right? Anyways, I don't like waiting forever for updates in my own writing and other people's too. The quicker the better in my opinion.

**Yasthira: **Oops, what a stupid fumble...yeah believe should've been become. I like using offhand remarks like that. It's interesting to see it build up. And thanks.

**Lutefa: **I know. And it gets even messier as the story continues haha.

**Confusedknight: **I'm glad you think it's realistic! I try. Anyways...yeah it is funny when you think about it. Alanna pretending to be a manly squire and a noble lady at the same time. Thanks for your nice review too.

**epobbp: **Here you are...an update!..

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Anyways, expect the plot to get even more messy and confusing as the story goes on. I'm not letting Alanna off easily in this story. Haha.

* * *

'_It may be beauty that captures your attention but it's personality that captures your heart_'-Anonymous

* * *

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Alanna cried out, "Take them off! Off!" 

Lady Winfred gave her a quick smack with her fan, "Hush. A noble lady always speaks in smooth, calming tones. Now, it isn't that bad, is it?"

The Lioness looked down at her feetwhich were shoved into a pair of beautiful green velvet shoes. The outers of these were studded with a design in a shiny bronze. The only set back to these shoes were it's heels. It hurt to have her feet arched at such an odd angle after years of wearing comfortable boots. But Lady Winfred had noted Alanna was just too short for a Conte. Conte's were tall and regal. Not short and stocky.

Alanna fought away the tears forming in her eyes, "No, I guess not."

"Good. You must wear these. All noble ladies do," Lady Winfred explained.

"Then all noble ladies have better endurance than I thought," Alanna muttered, attempting to walk with the feetkillers on.

"There is no beauty without pain, my dear," Lady Winfred said, flashing one of her smiles, "Now, show me your walk."

It was the sixth day of Alanna's lady lessons and they only had one more night of this torture before she had her coming out party as Alanna of Conte. The redheaded squire felt it was more like a bootcamp than lessons. She'd been plucked, waxed, polished, make-upped and dressed till she felt raw. She couldn't bring herself to believe that there were actual women who went through this their whole lives. However, using all her remaining strength, as she often did in training to be a Knight, she forced herself to walk in the most ladylike way she knew.

"Stop making that face," Lady Winfred scolded, "You look like you're giving birth."

It was hard not to make cringes of pain with the feetkillers on. Alanna forced a light smile on her face and tried again to walk, prettily.

Winfred watched her, closely, looking for a mistake. "Now show me how you sit with a gown on."

Alanna walked (still maintaining her small, gliding steps) over to the nearest leather chair and settled herself down while moving her skirts to the front and splaying them out over the chair itself. Her nails had been polished so they shone brightly. Luckily, they weren't coloured or she'd have a lot of explaining to do to her friends.

"Very, very, good, Alanna," Lady Winfred complimented, "You learn quickly. You have a few awkward mannerisms but nothing to draw grave attention. You'll do me proud. You'll do the Conte name proud."

She blushed under the degree of the compliments. She prayed against all odds that she would do Lady Winfred proud. For all her annoying smiles and her stiff noble lady rules, she'd still helped Alanna out in her hour of need. And the Lioness would remember it.

A sudden knock came at the door and Alanna looked petrified. If anyone saw her in here, there'd be trouble. An unknown noble lady with a boy's hair, strutting around in the room of the royal Aunt?

Winfred did not looked even the slightest perturbed, "That must be the healing woman here to fix up that hair of your's."

She stood up herself and went to the door. All the servingmaids were banished this time of day when Alanna came for her lady lessons.

"My hair?" Alanna blanked, "What healing woman? And what's wrong with my hair?"

Lady Winfred took one look at the mop of red that lay on Alanna's head and barely swept past her ears and laughed. Alanna felt her face growing hot and tried to keep her temper in check. Winfred opened the door and ushered in the healing woman that was to help with Alanna's hair. It was Eleni.

"Eleni!" Alanna cried, overjoyed at the sight of her.

"Alanna? My goodness, what're you doing here?" Eleni demanded, dropping her sack of potions and herbs.

"You two know each other I suspect," Lady Winfred smiled, lightly, closing her door.

"Eleni's my friend's mother. The friend in the city who knows about my secret, you know him?" Alanna explained, standing up in the excitement and forgetting her ladylike composure.

"Sit down," Winfred snapped, "You can't always switch back and forth from man to woman everytime you're excited."

Alanna blushed at being reprimanded and sat back down. Eleni raised an eyebrow.

"So _you're _the young noble that needs help with her hair?" Eleni asked, "Explain to me why I'mso confused, please."

"It's a long story," Alanna mumbled, keeping her small hands in her lap like a noble lady would.

"She's posing as my daughter because she needs to pose as her own lover," Winfred told Eleni in Alanna's stead.

Eleni's eyebrows were now flyaway's in her unruly bangs but she asked no more questions. Instead she began unpacking her bag and brought out all sorts of concoctions that looked as if they had nothing to do with healing.

"What're you going to do to my hair?" Alanna questioned, feeling queasy, "I can't dye it or anything because what happens when everyone sees Alan with a new shade of hair?"

"Shh, prettyness," Lady Winfred hushed her, using her nickname for Alanna, "We _are _dying your hair and lengthening it. But Alan won't be phased by this because we're using a very secret ingredient that most women don't have."

"Which is?" Alanna inquired, knowing she had to ask, otherwise Winfred would just assume she knew.

"Magic, of course," the royal Aunt responded, simply.

"Of course," Alanna grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Here, please, Alanna," Eleni called her over to a basin she'd set up. The Lioness obeyed even though she felt extremely timid.

"We won't do much so don't fret," Winfred said, coming over to the basin where Alanna's head rested so that she stood over her like some kind of eyeliner-wearing angel, "I just want to darken that beautiful red and bring it down to your elbows."

"Shall I make something to change her eye colour?" Eleni suggested, "It's too rare. Let's give it that sapphire blue the rest of you royalnobility have."

Winfred nodded, eager, "I can't wait till my nephew sees you tomorrow."

"What?" Alanna asked, trying to get up but she was forced back down my two pairs of strong hands, "Why would Jon see me tomorrow?"

"I invited him to your final lesson. _Dance_," Winfred added, grinning wickedly, "And so he can check your progress and note any things that are wrong with your behavior."

Alanna sighed, deeply, "I'll have to wear a dress, won't I? And the feetkillers?"

"And don't forget face paints," Winfred added, hersmile steadily growing.

Alanna groaned. She hadn't hoped to embarrass herself in front of Jon till a good day later. But tomorrow? When she was so unprepared? Strangely, another part of her felt giddy with excitement. Wasn't this what she secretly wanted all along? Having Jonathan see her as a girl? To realize she _was_ a girl and a very eligible one at that? She fought the happy blush that creeped up her cheeks but she knew both the older women noticed and gave each other knowing glances.

Eleni spent a good hour or two studying the components in Alanna's hair to prepare the perfect vial of potion for her. She added all sorts of the ingredients that had smells that brought Alanna to dizziness even though she was already sort of lying down. Finally, just as the bell rang for dinner, they were done. The sun had set long ago and Eleni pressed a case full of vials of her special potion tucked within into Alanna's hands.

"Drink a pinch of the blue and your hair will become long and a brownish red whilst your eyes will become the infamous Conte blue for the next twelve hours," Eleni instructed, "Should you wish to change back to your normal hair and eyes before the twelve hours is up, swallow a teaspoon of the purple. Do I make myself clear?"

Alanna nodded, still hazy-eyed from the lasting smell of lavendar in the air. Eleni continued, sternly, "If you run out, m'lady knows where to contact me, quickly."

She bowed to Alanna and Lady Winfred one last time before sneaking out of the room. Winfred opened her window to let out the intoxicating scent of Alanna's hair potion. She sat down at a wooden chair and Alanna fell back again on the leather one.

"I always thought Eleni only worked potions for healing," she murmured.

Winfred laughed at this. "Where do you think she gets all her money? Medication is surely a worthy path but it doesn't pay half so well as beautification."

* * *

Alanna sank inbetween Douglass and Gary for dinner and began to chomp away, hurriedly. Gary nudged her. 

"Why in such a rush?" Gary asked, grinning.

"Don't you know?" Raoul teased, "_Alanna _arrives tomorrow. He's probably wanting to be off writing sonnets about her beauty."

The Lioness smiled, broadly, "Not quite. But you're close."

In all reality, she had to hurry off to her lady lessons and practice till the bell came for all squires and pages to go to sleep. She rubbed her tired eyes and noticed Jon smiling at her across the table. She smiled back, knowing they were the only two in on the dealings happening in the King's sister's chambers.

"She really is coming, right?" Geoffery demanded, "I don't want to be disappointed again. One more let down and I'll have to question whether or not this royal beauty exists."

"She'll be there, alright?" Alanna offered, "And you'll all see her. If not tomorrow then the day after at the ball in her honor."

"Better be there," Geoffery muttered, incoherently.

More than all her other friends together, Geoffery had been the most disappointed after Lady Alanna hadn't turned up. Alanna also suspected Geoffery had asked the most questions and been the most suspcious. He wasn't the cleverest of them all but he was the most curious.

Alanna continued to finish her dinner at a rapid pace, now becoming motivated by Geoffery's questions. She had worked so hard to become a Knight...what were a few balls and gowns after all? Jonathan, less watched, managed to finish his dinner even before Alanna, herself.

"Well I'm off," he stated, as he would've any other night, "Got work to do unfortunately. I'll catch the rest of you later, alright?"

"Wait, I'll go with you!" Alanna offered, cleaning off her plate, "You can help me with some of this history essay I've got due tomorrow."

"What history essay?" Douglass demanded, but Alanna ignored him.

Jon nodded and they both set off together, not setting even the littlest of suspicion in any of their friend's minds. Once out of the Mess Hall they both grinned at each other, happy to have gotten away, unscathed.

"So I suppose you'll be wearing a dress today, huh?" Jon asked, his eyes glinting in the humor of it all.

"Yes and if you ever tell _anyone _about tonight ever _ever _again I will claim a limb," Alanna declared, tucking her hands behind her back.

"It isn't that bad, is it?" Jon questioned, "I mean, it's not like you've never worn a dress before."

"I may have worn a dress before this little mess I've created but I can assure youI won't afterwards," Alanna decided, looking at a passing noble lady for how she walked.

"You won't?" Jon implored, sounding...was that disappointment?

Alanna hesitated to respond, "I don't think so. But I won't bet my life on it. Who knows, I could change my mind."

"Or someone could change it for you," Jon pointed out.

"Like who?" Alanna demanded, but their rather insightful talk was cut short by their arrival at Lady Winfred's door.

Jon knocked it and Lady Winfred opened it, obviously having shooed away the servingmaids. Today's gown was of a soft pink that flowed out elegantly at the sleeves. She smiled at the two of them and welcomed them in. Closing the door, she got down to business.

"Since the night is already aging, we must be quick. Alanna, change your clothes, get your face paints on, and-did you bring your vial? Yes? Good. Take it as you were told and then go into the cupboard in my back room. You'll find your shoes there waiting for you. Get that frown off your face and go on," she ordered. Alanna frowned and stalked away. Still, she couldn't help but overhear what Lady Winfred told Jon, "As for you, my you look handsome! And they say you aren't courting anybody? Why ever not?"

Sadly, she couldn't dawdle around and listen to this interesting change of topics. She firstly went to a wardrobe to retrieve the dress Lady Winfred told her was a suitable one for the niece of the King to wear as she came to visit him. It was a satin gown, shaded with pale yellow and a little bit of white. It was pretty, simple, and basic. Nothing too fancy for her first time, she thought, relieved. It had an off the shoulder neck line that Alanna was still not sure if she was comfortable with. The sleeves were barely there so that her apple white arms were there for all to see. She scowled at her permanent goosebumps and got out her make up kit that had been borrowed from Winfred. Even Alanna, who was not a frequenter of face paints could tell this particular set was exquisite and not something just any commoner had. She did her lips with a tinted pink and went on to her cheeks. She brushed on the faintest of rouge so it didn't really look like rouge so much as it did like she'd been running a long while and she was a lively young lady. She lined her eyes with gray as opposed to the black that Winfred preferred. She didn't have the dark lashes to blend in pitch black like that. Gray gave her a better look by making her eyes almost catlike.

Next came the potion. Alanna was the most nervous at this part, hoping that Eleni hadn't mixed anything up and instead of getting brownish red hair and blue eyes, she'd end up with a tail and donkey ears. She sniffed it, tentatively. Without another act of hesitation she downed a small bit of it. The affect was immediate. Alanna looked at her reflection in the mirror as her hairbecame a shade or two darker and grew, rapidly, down to her elbows. The transformation in her eyes was even more fascinating. It felt like the violet pools rippled as drops of blue fell within until it consumed the purple. Soon she saw Jon's eyes look back at her. She smiled. The overall affect wasn't bad. Not bad at all.

Alanna hurried to complete the final step of her transformation by getting out another pair of shoes that Winfred had set out for her. These were a shiny white that blended well with the white tips of her gown. She tried not to cringe as she stood, feeling extremely uncomfortable in these feetkillers. Hopefully, after all this was over, she'd never have to wear these ever again. Then she thought of Jon and how disappointed he'd seemed when she said she hadn't wanted to wear dresses anymore and the pain lessened.

'_If he asked_,' Alanna thought to herself, '_I wonder if I'd keep wearing them._'

A few minutes later, she came out of Lady Winfred's bedroom into her sitting area where Jon and his Aunt awaited her. When she came out Winfred clapped her soft hands together, "See? Didn't I tell you she'd look marvelous, nephew?"

Alanna went red and shelooked at Jon. He smiled at her, warmly, "And I didn't doubt you for a second, Aunt. I knew you wouldn't underwhelm me. Not that it was too hard making Alanna beautiful, was it?"

"Oh, stop it," Alanna rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were suddenly redder than her rouge allowed it to be and a smile was creeping up on her lips.

"Not really," Winfred smiled, graciously, "She's a good student."

"Thank you, Lady Winfred," Alanna mumbled, "You're a good teacher."

"Come now. All these compliments have got you delirious. We still have work to do. Time to dance," Winfred decided, standing up and gesturing Jon to follow suit. He did. "We'll start off without music."

The other two nodded as she went on, "First, Alanna, I want you to be sitting. Go to that leather chair you always like. Jon, you go ask her to dance like you would any other lady and Alanna, let's see how you respond, alright?"

Alanna and Jonathan agreed and the former went to sit down at her leather chair, carefully walking like a lady. She hoped Jonathan approved. She sat down, sweeping out her gown. Here she waited, with a fan in her hand, as Winfred had instructed.

Lady Winfred came to stand beside her to watch the interaction that was about to occur between her two charges. Jon walked over. Alanna was envious of his larger, more comfortable, strides. He came to stand in front of her.

"Good evening, Lady Alanna," he greeted and gave her a smile that made all other noble ladies want to jump into his waiting arms right then and there.

"Same to you, Your Highness," Alanna responded, just as she'd been taught. She blinked a few times. Lady Winfred said blinking quickly was always found extremely attractive. Most men took it as batting eyelashes.

"I must say I'm surprised to see a lady of your beauty all alone tonight," he commented, just as he'd done millions of times before.

Winfred looked to Alanna to give an equally witty reply but Alanna's mouth had gone dry. Even though both she and her Knightmaster were acting, their chemistry felt so _real. _She forced some saliva in her mouth, wishing he'd been the one to supply her with it.

"I'm not alone anymore am I?" Alanna replied, working her brain for something to say, "Not now that you grace me with your company."

The royal Aunt was impressed by her answer even though it'd taken her a little longer than most to think it up. Jon smiled, "Why don't we move this conversation to the dance floor, m'lady?"

"That can be arranged," Alanna smiled, forcing down her grin that was about to break through.

He offered her his arm and she took it, gingerly, like a noble lady might. She stood and they walked to a fake place they set up to be a dance floor in their imagination. Lady Winfred followed up, grinning.

"Perfect!" she commented, "Alanna you did very well. Jon-well you were just yourself, weren't you dear? My, my, my. You _must _ask me to dance with you next ball. Now, let's drop our little act and get to the actual dance lesson, shall we? Jon, in your stance."

Jonathan slid one of his hands down to Alanna's lower back and she shivered, unintentionally. His hand was sending shivers and tingling feelings all throughout her body. His other hand clasped one of her's, leaving Alanna with a hand she had no idea where to put.

"On his shoulder, darling! On his right shoulder. There you go. You two have the perfect stance. Very attractive," Winfred noted out loud, "Jon lead please. Just the typical waltz you might do at the Midwinter Festival Ball."

Jon began moving and Alanna tried to follow even though she had no idea how to move her feet. She looked down, trying to avoid missing and stepping on the Prince's feet. She had a feeling the heeled backs would hurt an awful lot as it went through one of your toes.

"Alanna, look up. Not down. Just move your feet in this way...left right left right left right right left," Winfred ordered.

The Lioness attempted this and fumbled over her own gown. "That's easier said than done!"

Lady Winfred shielded her eyes with one hand, "We're going to have a _very _long night."

* * *

Alanna was wearing the yellow dress again as she waited by a manor on Conte Road. She looked extremely odd. A single noble lady, dressed in all her luxury, standing alone by the side of the road, looking anxiously every which way. She held a shawl, tightly around her, and pattted her slightly curly brownish red hair, softly. Passersby looked at her in wonder. What was such a pretty lady doing here all alone? 

The young lady in question tried not to be phased by their staring. Most of all she had to hold herself back from the lingering eyes of the men. They looked everywhere! Was this something noble ladies had to put up with all the time? To Alanna's great relief, she noticed a white carriage drawn by white stallions pulling up around the corner. This was the particular carriage Winfred had told her to watch out for. This was the carriage that was supposed to have driven her here all the way from Dalesdike, a lesser known fief. Apparently the carriage driver had been told to stop along Conte road for a lone noble lady, wearing a yellow gown because he stopped at her side without any question.

"Alanna of Conte?" he asked her, stepping down, as did two footmen.

"Yes," she nodded and noticed the back of the carriage was packed with trunks and other luggage. It looked like she really _had _come from Dalesdike and earlier from Scanra.

"My lady," the carriage driver bowed, "Please, shall I help you in?"

She was about to snap, '_I can get in on my own fine, thanks_,' before she realized that would sound awfully unladylike. She took his offered arm and let him hoist her on the closed-roof carriage. She sat down on the peachy velvet that streched over the seats. She heard the footmen lift the small bags she'd had with her on the back of the carriage and, finally, with a lurch, they set off. Alanna leaned back on her seat. She was already tired even though she hadn't done anything. She was tired of charading around as other people when all she ever wanted to be was Alanna, the Knight. Alanna, the hero. Why was it, that at the end of the day, she was always torn between being a boyish squire or a soft noble lady? She cast away these darker thoughts and let the clicking of horse's hooves against the cobbled street calm her.

A good fifteen minutes later, Alanna felt the carriage sway to a stop. Were they at the palace? She resisted the urge to stick her head out the window and check since that didn't feel like a very ladylike thing to do. And, anyways, she still wasn't quite used to her long reddish brown hair and didn't know how to handle it once it was caught in the light wind that whipped through Corus, today. However, her curiousity did not have to wait long for it's hunger to be fed. In about a minute, the carriage doors lurched open. One of the two footmen were standing there, bowing and offering her his arm. She took it softly, as she'd been taught.

It was an awfully strange feeling returning home as a visitor. Her eyes went up to the tower where her quarters were with Jonathan. How she wished she could sleep there tonight. But Lady Winfred had strongly disagreed, saying Alanna would have to spend at least the first three nights in her royal chambers before sneaking off to her squire's quarters. The footmen led her up to the palace steps where the great doors were only juttering open.

The hall was beautifully decorated for her, though not quite at the extreme it had been when Lady Winfred and the Carthaks had arrived. She looked to the procession that had come to welcome her. King Roald, Queen Lianne, Duke Gareth, Roger, Lady Winfred, a few Carthakis, and Jonathan. She smiled at them; hoping it was the type of smile someone would give their family. It was so hard not to bow at their feet when she was so used to treating the royal family as her betters. And now _she _was one of them! Oh, the irony of it all.

"Lady Alanna, we welcome you to the palace," King Roald greeted her, "As your Uncle it gives me great joy to see my sister's daughter after all these years."

Even though he barely knew his niece well enough to realize she was an imposter, his smile was so genuine she couldn't help but return it. He had some of the same charm that Jon had. Alanna curtsied and noticed Winfred looking on, approvingly.

"Thank you, Uncle," Alanna said, softly.

She bowed to Queen Lianne and Duke Gareth in turn. Then came her mother. She had a feeling that noble lady or no, that a daughter would greet her own mother with a little bit more enthusiasm.

"Oh, mother, how I have missed you!" Alanna sighed, clasping Lady Winfred's hands in her own and then giving a curtsy.

"And I you," Winfred replied, her voice actual sounding teary. She stroked Alanna's hair, good-naturedly.

"Cousin, you grow ever more beautiful," someone said, eyeing her. It was Roger.

Alanna felt very uncomfortable but she managed to muster a, "Thank you, dear Roger."

He kept looking at her as if sizing her up. Even though she had on layer upon layer of corset on petticoats on gowns, she still felt naked under his gaze. He finally looked away and gave her his most winning smile. Alanna gave him a smile too, albeit a weaker one.

"I don't remember your hair being quite so red," he commented, smoothing some hair away from her face, "But then again who am I to complain when it suits you so wonderfully."

"Mind if I greet her, Roger?" Jonathan interjected, relieving Alanna from the Duke of Conte's touch.

Roger grinned at him in a more stiff manner than he had used before, "Of course."

Jon ignored him and bowed, deeply, "Welcome to Corus, dear cousin of Scanra."

Alanna gave him her first real smile of the day, "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Call me Jon, please," he urged, straightening, "We are cousins, after all."

She nodded and noticed that a good number of nobles and a few squires and pages had assembled to glimpse the royal cousin from up north. Alanna noticed Geoffery and Douglass there too, among the squires and tried to look away. It was strange how they looked at her. For the first time in their lives they saw her not as a boy but as a woman. A woman ready for courting, she thought with a shiver.

"Shall we proceed to the Noble's Mess Hall? Lunch will be served in a few minutes," Duke Gareth suggested, offering Lady Winfred his arm. She took it and the Queen took the King's. Jonathan and Roger glanced at each other. One of them would escort Alanna and the other would be alone. But who to what?

"Lady Alanna, why don't you relieve my cousin and escort him to lunch?" Roger offered, playing the part of a good cousin.

However, this time Alanna was thankful for his act. It would've been hell to have her hand on his and walking all the way to the damned Nble's Mss with him. Jonathan held out his hand and she slid her hand on his forearm. The two of them and Roger set off to their meal. After a minute or two they dawdled and Roger was soon out of sight.

Jon leaned in and whispered in her ear, "You're doing a good job."

His warm breath tickled her ears so she moved farther away. Her heart stopped beating rapidly but justbarely. Her arm was still on his. "You think so? I didn't mess anything up?"

He shook his head, "No. Just-when you first came in you looked scared but you relaxed later on."

"I'm surprised I managed to relax, what with Roger touching my hair," Alanna muttered so quietly only the two of them could hear.

Her Knightmaster made a face, "That was rather strange but not too out of sorts. Roger likes to flirt, even with family. You still aren't all paranoid about him, right?"

Alanna didn't want this to be the time when she upset him so she gave him the answer that he'd want to hear. "No, of course not."

"Liar," he munbled but smiled all the same at the thought of her lying for the betterment of his own feelings.

The Lioness had never been to the Noble's Mess Hall as a diner, just as a server. It was weird to see fellow pages and squires running about to serve her when only yesterday she'd been doing the same job as them. At the table she sat in, she was accompanied by Lady Winfred, Jon, Duke Roger and, to Alanna's great distaste, Delia. She was grateful for a table far from the prying eyes of Helena and Lady Catherine. When they saw her, they'd know her even if her Knight and squire friends didn't. They would know her facial structure of that she was sure. And Catherine would see her small pointed nose and straight away see Lord Alan's own small pointed nose. The squires waiting on their tables were Geoffery and Sacharell, Alanna noted to her great amusement. Someday, when she was much older, she'd have to tell this awkward story to her own grandchildren.

"Delia, you haven't met my cousin from Scanra have you?" Roger said, cutting his roast beef.

Alanna watched the knife in his hand very steadily. It glinted and she was afraid that he'd take it and jam it into Jonathan's heart any second. Instead he held it as he lifted his meat to his moist lips. The Lioness stared, almost in a trance. Delia's voice broke her out of it.

"No I haven't," she started, sweetly, "May I ask your name?"

"Lady Alanna of Conte," Alanna answered, robotically. The name had been drilled into her brain so many times, it was hard to forget.

Delia gave her a small smile, "I'm sure we'll be the best of friends, Alanna."

The Lioness could barely stop herself from snorting. In an attempt to stop she gave out a light cough. "Yes, of course. And may I ask your name?"

"Delia of Eldorne," she replied, "Good friend to both your cousins."

The other two men at the table grinned, broadly. Alanna almost vomitted at the way she took them over. Couldn't they see that's all she had? Beauty and charm? The only real contest she'd ever win would be for the fastest time for spreading your legs apart for men.

The last course of lunch came. A peppermint pudding. Alanna took it in small spoonfuls as Lady Winfred said women did. Lunch ended soon and most all at Alanna's table cleared away. Some, like Jon and Lady Winfred, waited for her to leave near the exit. Near the end, as the nobles began to clear out, a certain blonde-haired page whispered something wicked into her ear.

"Lady Alanna. I've heard a lot about you from a redheaded friend of mine," he whispered.

She looked up and came face-to-face with Geoffery who looked at her with a michevious smile. She returned it. Which, she realized, must not have been ladylike but who really cared?

"You're a friend of Alan's?" she asked, although she knew full well the answer.

Geoffery nodded, "Who else?"

"See him anywhere yet today?" Alanna questioned, wondering what reason Jonathan had given everyone for her absence.

The squire shrugged, "Jon-I mean, the Princesays he's sick and off to the healer's quarters getting better. Apparently he'll be gone for three days. When he awakes he'll be sorry he missed your arrival, I'm sure."

Alanna nodded, trying to look disappointed, "What is _your _name then, squire?"

"Geoffery of Meron," he replied, solidly, "But I'm not the only one who knows of you. My friends-Douglass of Veldine, Gareth, the younger, of Naxen and Raoul of Goldenlake are dying to meet you too. Everyone wants to meet the goddess that cast her spell over our Alan."

She blushed, "So what say you? Am I a goddess?"

"I choose not to answer that question," Geoffery grinned, devilishly, "Either way I lose. Say yes and I'll get the lights knocked out of me for flirting with my friend's girl. Say no and I'll get the lights knocked out of me for offending my friend by _not fliritng_ with his girl."

"Hey you! Haven't you anything better to do than trifle a noble lady?" someone scolded Geoffery.

They both looked up into the pink face of a hazel-eyed man, about five years older than Jonathan. He was wearing a light blue tunic, rimmed with yellow. The colours of Legann. Geoffery scowled but backed away. Alanna smoothed her face so she didn't scowl herself. She didn't like this treatment of her friend, that was for sure, but it wouldn't be the place of a noble lady to argue.

"Good afternoon, m'lady-?" he paused.

"Alanna of Conte," she responded, giving him a curtsy.

"Oh! The royal cousin," the young man bowed, "Welcome to Tortall. My name is Imrah of Legann."

Alanna nodded, politely, realizing this was a young man of importance. One day, soon, he might be the ruler of one of the most important fiefs in all of Tortall. It was no point in making an enemy of him, especially since she would have to work with him sometime in her future. If not as a noble lady, then as a Knight. Legann was often raided by pirates bound from the Copper Isles.

"So, how are you liking it here? Different from Scanra I wager?" he inquired, sitting down beside her.

"Very much so," Alanna agreed, "It's rather more...stable here, I must say."

Imrah laughed, "Yes, one King. One line. Contes. No civil wars, fortunately. I hear the news that brings you here, Lady Alanna, and I congratulate you."

"Huh?" Alanna raised an eyebrow then lowered it and tried not to look so surprised. Was there something Lady Winfred had forgotten to tell her? Instead she tried to take on a look of comprehension, "Thank you. It's very much appreciated."

"I guess this means we shall be seeing a lot more of each other since you'll be in Tortall for a while I daresay," he commented with another chuckle.

Alanna was starting to feel unnerved, "Right. Riiight. So what exactly-"

The bell rang for the squires to get to their next classes. Imrah cursed, then blushed. "I apologize for my language, fair lady but I should've been out to meet my squad by now. Sorry, m'lady. I hope we can continue this conversation later?"

"Of course," Alanna bowed her head as he walked off. She was suddenly deep in thought. What in the world was Imrah congratulating her about? And what did it have to do with how long she'd stay in Tortall? It might be nothing but then again it might be everything. As soon as she caught Lady Winfred or Jonathan she'd consult them about this odd occurance.

For now, however, she needed to make her way to her guest chambers. A haven where she could finally take off these feetkillers!

* * *

**Author's Note: **So what do you think? Haha, what do you think Imrah is congratulating her about? You'll find out next chapter or if not then, then the one right after. Oh and next chapter comes a family dinner with-who else but the royal family! And then comes the ball... where "Alanna" meets all of"Alan's"friends. 

**winky-wink**


	7. The Maids know Everything

**Disclaimer: **A few characters, major and minor are mine. Same with most of the plot. Although Lady Catherine is a creation of Tamora Pierce, as is everything else.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Jonathan

**Musical Affection: **'If I'm not in love' by _Faith Hill._

**Author's Note: Confusedknight: **I hate waiting forever for stories to be update so I try to update quickly. I'm not swanked with homework yet so it's really convenient. I really liked writing some of the scenes in this chapter. Particularly the Conte family dinner. Anyways, thanks for being so nice.

**Yasthira: **Thank you. That was uber-sweet.

**epobbp: **Here you are once again...

**Lutefa: **Nope, they don't think she's bethrothed to Alan. No one knows about the love affair between "Alan" and "Alanna of Conte" other than Gary, Jon, Raoul, Douglass and Geoffery. And no, Abigail has not come. But they're all very good guesses.

**Padme Amidala2121: **I'm so glad you think the people are in character. I usually hate OOCness. And yeah, I liked feetkillers too.

**Dom's Angel: **Thanks a bunch.

**Kokari: **Thank. I like keeping it light and funny.

Ok, this chapter was fun to write. And except the plot to thicken quickly. It gets more complicated if you'll believe it and I see a scene in the future which I'm just dying to write but that'll have to wait long in the future when this story is winding down. But we're not even close to the end yet! Let me just give you a little hint though: It involves someone's pants. Haha...you'll find out eventually.

* * *

'_Gossip is what what no on claims to like but everybody secretly enjoys_'-Joseph Conrad

* * *

That evening Alanna went up to her chambers to get ready for dinner. As a squire, getting ready for dinner would mean rushing up to your chambers. Throwing your sword and crossbow in one corner, meeting up with your Knightmaster and then scurrying back down stairs to the Mess Hall. But, as a noble lady, getting ready for dinner was a much more complicated matter. Especially if you were the niece of the King and about to attend a private family dinner. 

Firstly, she _had _to change gowns.

"But why?" Alanna demanded, pouting, "This yellow one is fine. It's barely been worn!"

The servingmaid looked at Alanna to see if she was joking or not, "Lady, please! You've been travelling in that all day. Surely you wouldn't want to wear a rag in front of the company you keep? _Particularly _not Duke Roger."

Alanna raised an eyebrow that had recently been plucked, "Why's Roger so special?"

The blonde-haired servingmaid that had just spoken exchanged a look with another servingmaid of black hair. The blonde one seemed to be asking a question with her eyes and the black one responded with a shake of the head, a fearful look in her eyes.

"We cannot say, Lady Alanna," the blonde servingmaid spoke again, "It is not our place. You will learn of the truth eventually."

The Lioness sighed. Whatever it was, it couldn't be very important if the maids knew, now could it? Or at least she prayed to Mithros it wasn't. The servingmaids fitted her with a corset and Alanna nearly fainted as they tightened the ropes at the back.

"How am I supposed to breath?" she huffed, grabbing the space just beneath her breasts.

"Is this not how they do it in Scanra?" another servingmaid with salt and pepper hair asked, looking to the lady she waited on.

"No-Alanna gasped-uh, wait, yes.-another gasp-I mean, just not so tightly, _please_?" she requested, the last word a plead.

The servingmaids nodded to one another and loosened the corset. Over it came a gown of a dark blue velvet. It was a thick fabric that felt like it weighed more than Alanna herself. The sleeves were slightly longer than her last gown but the neckline was still uncomfortably low. Lady Winfred said that couldn't be helped. All young noble ladies wore low necklines because they were all in hunt for a husband.

Another servingmaid curled Alanna's brownish red hair and left it out and clipped it to one side with a glimmery sapphire barette. The black haired servingmaid applied Alanna's make-up and she grumbled wondering why Winfred had taken her through the excruciating steps of learning these tricks of the trade if the servingmaids did all the real work?

'_Perhaps she thought you'd want to know for later on. A time when you wanted to make yourself pretty with no servingmaids on hand,_' a cruel voice that sounded an awful lot like Faithful teased her in her head.

She snorted aloud, causing the maids to look at her in surprise. Most of their mistresses rarely snorted. Alanna gave them an apologetic smile which was even more strange for a noble lady.

After they were finally done with her, the blonde-haired servingmaid with the quick mouth, whose name, Alanna learned, was Carly sighed, "That gown and that sapphire barette make your blue eyes look absolutely exquisite."

"My _blue _eyes?" Alanna frowned, then remembering Eleni's spell she exclaimed, "Oh! Yes...my _blue _eyes. Yes, well, thank you."

Carly nodded, smiling. The other maids also grinned in approval of their finished project. She wasn't the most thinnest or the most tallest girl at court but she did have a certain glow about her that couldn't be found just anywhere. Any idiot could see it.

* * *

Light music played in the banquet room exclusive only to the royal family and their selected guests. Tonight it would host all the Contes, the Naxen men, and the Carthaki Ambassador and his advisors. Alanna was escorted there by Lady Winfred, who knew her way around the palace quite well. 

"You never forget where you grew up," she stated, firmly, turning a corner.

Alanna followed her and found herself in a grand hallway with portraits of the royal family. Except these weren't as formal as one normally found hanging about the castle. Some of these were of past Kings and Queens and Princes and Princess' as enfants, playing with silver rattles or a pet pup. Others even included portraits from wedding days, some even included kissing and others were of the royals joking around.

"That's Roald and me," Winfred stopped and stood by a portrait of a young boy and girl who looked like twins. They were both grinning down at Alanna and the royal Aunt from atop of a golden mare and a white stallion. "Everyone thought we were twins even though I was two years younger. I spent more time with him than I did with Georgia. She was always a daughter through and through, mother used to say, I was a son that had been trapped in a daughter's body."

The look on her face was suddenly so wistful that Alanna wondered what she had been through in all her life to make her the woman she was today. The Lioness also wondered that, if twenty years from now, she'd also look at a portrait of her younger self and feel the same way. Like she might have regretted something or the other.

After a moment, Winfred broke out of her trance, "I'm sorry for troubling you with the mumblings of an old woman, Alanna. Let's get to dinner. I'm sure the Carthaks won't want to be kept waiting. They absolutely, positively will never eat unless everyone's at the table."

Alanna nodded and then suddenly remembered something, "Lady Winfred-"

"You'll be calling me mother in public as we are," Winfred whispered, quietly so only Alanna heard, as she led her to a door at the end of the hall that was trimmed with gold and flanked by precious artifacts.

"-Mother," Alanna continued, "I need to talk to you about something a Knight said to me. Lord Imrah of Legann I think it was. Something awfully strange. About me staying in Tortall for a long time..."

Winfred looked at Alanna, suspiciously as if she thought she was lying, "Did he now? We'll discuss this later, Alanna. For now, let's try to enjoy ourselves at dinner with our family, shall we?"

Alanna nodded but was feeling rather unsettled. She noticed Lady Winfred felt the same way. Something was definitely up. And she had a feeling her 'mother' was just as confused as she was. A servingman standing outside the door opened it for them and they setted inside to a lavish scene. Various members of the royal family, the Naxens and the Carthaks intermingled. They welcomed the new arrivals, heartily. Alanna noticed Gary nudge Jonathan eagerly and the Prince gave his Naxen cousin a frown.

Lady Winfred quickly fell into talks with Queen Lianne and the Carthaki ambassador's wife, Sheila. Alanna, not knowing quite what to do in a social scene such as this, drifted off to a corner, where she pretended to be fascinated by a painting of the Black God. To her great amusement she heard whispers behind her coming from none other than her friends.

"I say, Jonathan, introduce me to her!" Gary whispered, harshly.

"Mithros Gary! Why don't you introduce yourself?" Jonathan demanded, sounding annoyed.

"Come on. You've already met her. She's your _cousin_. I can't just go up there and say, 'Hello, I'm Gary. Friend of your lover's. Nice to meet you too'!"

Alanna could barely resist laughing at her friend's snarky sarcasm. He obviously wanted to meet her so he could report back to the rest of the troop of their friends that would be awaiting word. She turned around and grinned at the two of them.

"A friend of Alan's you say?" Alanna said, an eyebrow arched for humor.

Jonathan smiled as Gary blushed, "Err...you heard us did you?"

"Yes. Alan tells me you enjoy your fair share of eavesdropping too?" Alanna inquired, loving the fact that she had this effect on her bigger friend.

Gary coughed, "Um, what else did Alan say exactly?"

"You're good at wrestling and a fair hand with a sword," Alanna replied, relenting her teasing. She didn't know how much more red Gary could get.

"That's quite right. I haven't introduced myself, properly," Gary said, standing and giving her a bow, "I am Gareth of Naxen."

Alanna curtsied, "Alanna of Conte, my Lord."

"Call me Gary," he waved a hand, "Alan does."

The Lioness felt inclined to curtsy again like a noble lady would, "Then you must call me Alanna."

Gary nodded and a faint smile came upon his lips, "You're just like Alan."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked, looking between Jon and Gary, suspiciously.

"Bad thing," Jon joked as Gary said, politely, "Good thing."

Gary looked to Jonathan in surprise, "Sorry about that Alanna. He's usually not so rude."

Jonathan chuckled and Alanna knew he meant no harm. He just knew she was just as much Alan of Trebond dressed in a gown as in breeches. Gary, however, couldn't understand that and wouldn't for a long time.

"So, your squire friend, Geoffery, tells me Alan's in the infirmary," Alanna said, making conversation.

Gary frowned, "Yeah. He'll be right angry when he finds out that he missed you. How long are you here in Corus for?"

"A good long time," someone said, coming up behind Alanna.

She nearly jumped out of her skin. Roger of Conte came to stand at her side and looked at her for an awkward second before regarding Jon and Gary. Alanna wondered, fleetingly, how much of the conversation the Conte Duke had heard. Did he overhear the small detail of his cousin being in love with his foe?

"A good long time," he repeated again.

Alanna, once again, felt something was terribly wrong. Whenever Roger was around she always felt that way. But tonight was different. Tonight the harm felt like it was directed towards her and not Jonathan. The Prince, in question, frowned at Roger's words.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he implored, eyebrows knitted together.

"You'll find out soon enough," Roger replied, a loof. He then changed the subject, "How do you find Corus, cousin?"

Alanna was so lost in thought she didn't realize he could be possibly be speaking to her. Especially since she wasn't used to him referring to her as cousin.

"Cousin? _Cousin?_" Roger repeated, sounding a little miffed because he thought she was ignoring him.

"Alanna," Jon spoke, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Huh?" she murmured, "Oh! I-yes, I'm quite enjoying Corus."

"You always did have a certain love for the Tortallan courts, balls and all," Roger commented, thoughtfully, "I'll make sure you go to any and all balls your heart desires."

The Lioness fidgeted, unused to kindness from her worst enemy, "Thank you."

'_Of all the people I must impersonate_,' Alanna thought, stubbornly, '_It just _has_ to be the ball-loving, gown-wearing, cousin of Roger of Conte!_'

Roger gave her one of his usual charming smiles and drifted off to chat with the Carthaks. Gary was taking in as much Alanna as possible because his friends would later pick his memory apart to find out what Alan's love was truely like. Alanna shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It was rather unnerving being studied as a girl. She wished Gary wouldn't look at her so closely. If he did, he might realize that she had a build awfully similar to Alan.

"I still don't understand how you can love balls so much and Alan hate them so much," Gary said, coming up beside her and looking at the painting she'd just been looking at.

Alanna shrugged, "Balls are...beautiful, aren't they?"

It was extremely difficult standing and defending the name of dance when she hated balls so much. She saw no point in mindless flirting, chatter and politics. She was much more of a do-it-yourself, up-front, hands-on sort of person.

"They're...," Alanna trailed off, thinking heavily, "They're a certain time in the life of all nobles when we can come together and just have fun? Who wants to always be working away on horses or swords or the convent? Anyways, everyone glows while they're at balls. Everyone sparkles. That's what I love best."

Halfway through her little speech, she almost found herself believing the words she spoke. Perhaps, a teeniest drop of noble lady blood in her veins _did _believe what she said. Though she would never admitt it.

"Eloquently put," Jon said, then noticing the other dinner guests beginnng to assemble at the tables he added, "We should get ourselves a seat."

King Roald sat at the head of the table, Queen Lianne at his left and Duke Gareth on his right. Jon sat next to his mother and Gary next to his father. Lady Winfred snuggled into a chair beside her nephew and Roger settled in beside Gary. Alanna was beside Lady Winfred, surrounded by Roger and Carthaks. The servingmen came out with the first course. Cream of oak soup. Alanna sipped it, quietly, watching Lady Winfred for ladylike behaviourisms.

She caught the gray eyes of the ambassador from Carthak and he smiled at her. Alanna immediately riveted her eyes towards her soup bowl. Messing with Carthaks was _not _a good thing. Especially since their current emperor, Kale, was a madman and his heir apparent, Ozorne, looked to be no better.

"Lady Winfred," the Carthaki ambassador spoke Common well and without a hint of an accent said, "Is this diamond among pearls your daughter?"

"Yes, Lord Gugal. Dear, why don't you introduce yourself to our important guest from Carthak?" Lady Winfred suggested, managing to eat, talk and look pretty all at once.

Alanna struggled to swallow her soup before saying, "I am Lady Alanna of Conte, my Lord. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"So polite," Lord Gugal's wife murmured, "How old did you say she was, my Tortallan friend?"

"I didn't," Lady Winfred smiled but it was a cold one, "But since you ask, she's close to seventeen."

"Only two years younger than my eldest son!" Lord Gugal exclaimed, a devious grin spreading across his face as he exchanged glances with his wife.

Alanna and Winfred both knew what they were thinking. They wanted their son to be married with the Tortallan King's niece. As if that'd ever happen, Alanna thought, darkly, if they wanted to marry their son off to Lady Winfred's daughter, they'd have to make a long journey to Scanra where Abigail was. She shivered, involuntarily. She hoped none of the other men at court got it into their heads that she would marry them, their brothers, their sons, their nephews or _any _man related to them whatsoever. She was going to finish this Alanna of Conte act as soon as Lady Winfred left Corus.

"Got Scanran blood in you, have you?" Lord Gugal asked, a tease in his voice, "Then you're a fighter, coming from all those warlords, aren't you? Still, you've got the looks of a Tortallan beauty, m'dear. Perfect. You're perfect."

The Lioness got red in the face. Did he think she was just some object he could buy? Didn't he think that marrying her off to his son would require the permission of a many good people? What an ignorant, self-assured, pig, Alanna thought, grimly.

Roger seemed to frown at this sort of talk too, "She's only a girl, Lord Gugal."

Alanna was relieved at him for protecting his young cousin. At least, it seemed, Roger was gentleman enough to care for the weaker female bodies in his family.

"Doesn't look much like a girl though, does she?" he replied, staring down at her-well-_you know_. Alanna didn't believe she had ever been so offended.

"Yet she is. And, although I believe we may disagree on this, _Lord _Gugal, a girl cannot do all that a woman can. She can't, for insistance, raise a child or even rear one, properly. Neither can she care for a household of nobles and servants or slaves as you have in Carthak," Roger retorted, face rather pale.

He was being helpful, yes, but Alanna had a feeling there was a reasoning behind it. She felt as if she were just another one of his pawns. Fortunately, Roger's calm yet ferocious tones had quieted the ambassador and his wife for now but Alanna occasionally caught them stealing glances at her. It made her squirm and feel uncomfortable throughout the rest of the meal.

* * *

On the morning of Alanna's first day as a noble lady she was surprised that she felt a peculiar emotion. Not anger or depression or annoyance as she had suspected but _curiousity_. However, she decided later on, this was perfectly normal since she'd always been the curious type, hadn't she? Curious enough to wonder if anyone would catch her if she dressed up as a boy and tried to become a Knight. And now, she was curious enough to wonder what would've happened if her life was the opposite. What if she'd followed in the footsteps of so many women before her? 

Waking up late was one advantage of being a noble lady, Alanna realized, feeling the ten o'clock sun smother her face in a yellow warmth. She had a dreamy look in her eyes and sighed, pleasantly. Suddenly she felt guilty for being so carefree as she realized the rest of her fellow squires were probably already past three or four of their classes for the day.

However, she didn't have much time to feel bad because her door burst open as an onslot of servingmaids, led by Carly, made their way into her chambers. Some made a beeline for her wardrobe to pick out which gown she was to wear for today. Another went to set up the wash tub in which she'd be scrubbed clean. The feisty blonde, who had already caught Alanna's eye and heart, scurried over to the Lioness herself.

"Wake up, m'lady," she said, standing over her, "Time for breakfast."

Alanna gave a groan and sat up in bed. She looked around for a pair of breeches or a pair of anything since all she wore right now was a tunic that barely made it to her knees. But her search was cut short as Carly and the black-haired maid, Lydia, pulled her out of bed. Before Alanna could protest they had pulled the tunic over her head and half-carried her to the wash tub. Another maid was heating it up with her Gift.

"Ladies, please!" Alanna yelped as they dumped her into the wash tub, creating a large splash of water, "Isn't this a bit obscene?"

Lydia grinned, "Your mother said you'd be difficult, lady. So we were just to make sure we got you bathed and ready for breakfast ten minutes to theeleventh hour."

"Even if we had to use physical force," added a smug redhead that shared Alanna's real hair color.

Alanna sighed, "She told you right then. But next time, can I get a warning? And, I really can wash myself, you know."

"Whatever you say," Carly agreed, lifting Alanna's arm up and beginning to scrub it, "You get dirty awfully quick for a noble, if you don't mind my saying, lady."

Alanna smiled, "I know. Let's just say I've been around men far too long, eh?"

After her bath, the servingmaids started dressing her in a gown made of a simple cotton like material in green that was embroided in gold. Alanna felt fairly quiet throughout this whole proccess, remembering that she hated mornings. Next came hair and make up. Today the maids did nothing to it, just felt it out straight and flat. The brownish red hung around her shoulders and Alanna resisted the urge to twitch. The face paints had a slightly bronze tinge to them, making Alanna's boring pale skin take on the flare of a tanned Bazhir. The end effect was that of a wild, warrior princess type which pleased Alanna.

That pleasure did not last long when she saw the feetkillers they laid out for her. It was those beautiful green velvet ones.

"I will not wear them!" Alanna said, upturning a nose like the noble shewas acting as and truely, that she was.

The maids looked at one another in shock

"Don't you want your gown to match your shoes?" one asked in alarm.

"No!" Alanna cried, crossing her arms over her chest and getting surprised at feeling bosoms there. She looked down and looked up again with a blush. She knew she had them, of course, but they were usually bound so she never actually _felt _them there if that made any sense.

The maids looked more confused than ever. The redhead was the first to speak, "I don't understand..."

"Well then-," Alanna paused to hear her name. It was Charlene, "-Charlene you'd best learn quick that I don't _do _feetkillers."

"Feetkillers?" Carly repeated, then giggled at her nickname, "You're a strange one Miss, if you don't mind me saying, that's for sure."

Alanna smiled at her, "I _am _a strange one."

"Well, then," Lydia continued, seeming to me the eldest and therefore the most responsible, "You still have to wear them. You, unlike most of the royal nobility need them. You're shorter than little Anewyn, over there."

The Lioness finally gave in. She would only attract grave attention to herself if she strolled about wearing boots and reaching barely five feet. Contes were known for their height afterall. She also had a bad suspicion that Helena, Lady Catherine or worse, Roger, would discover her.

After getting dressed, which had taken a good part of an hour, Alanna headed down to dinner. They were among the final few to arrive. The people who came latest were, of course, the King and Queen. The entire audience of the Mess Hall stood at their entrance and most bowed or curtsied. The royal pair nodded to them and finally came to sit down at the grandest table at the front of the room. Then, and only then, did the meal begin.

"Did you sleep well?" Lady Winfred questioned, cutting her bacon.

Alanna nodded, "Yes, but it took a while to get used to the bed. It was so soft my spine felt like it had no support."

"It takes getting used to but that's what most noble women sleep on," Lady Winfred went on, "What plans have you for today?"

"Well, since you won't let me do what I want to do until two days time," Alanna said, hinting at her squire duties, "I'll have nothing planned. The the ball is this evening."

"In your honor," Winfred reminded her, "And don't scrunch up your face like that. It's unbecoming. You'll go to this ball tonight and _enjoy _it. My daughter is well known for her love of them. Should you act out of character..."

Alanna wrinkled her nose, disdainfully but then said, "I won't. I'll be the life of the ball. I'll dance with every man that comes my way. I'll-well you get my point, I suppose?"

"Quite," her fake mother said, pertly, "But you have nothing planned for the day, I hear? That's just as well because if you _did _have anything planned, it would've had to have been cancelled. I arranged for two young ladies to show you around the palace. Noble, of course."

"Who?" Alanna asked, rather unconcerned. She hoped, whoever it was, it was someone tolerable.

"Ladies Delia and Cythera," Lady Winfred answered, "They seemed eager to meet the cousin to the heir of the throne."

Alanna choked on her milk. It was not exactly a ladylike thing to do. Some of it squirted out of her nose as she fought to breath, properly. A nobleman sitting not far from them gave her a disgusted look and moved down two seats.

The Lioness returned his look for a dirty one of her own before exclaiming in a furious whisper, "What? Delia? I despise her!"

"You most certainly do not," Lady Winfred snapped, the picture of an annoyed noble, "Alan of Trebond despises her. Alanna of Conte, on the other hand, barely even knows her. Are you not Alanna of Conte?"

Alanna very much wanted to slap the old witch up the head at that moment but resisted and replied, "Yes I am. I shall act accordingly."

To spend a day being given the grand tour of the castle by Delia was less appealing than the thought of kissing a pig but she'd live through it. At least Cythera would be there and she was far more agreeable than her wench of a friend.

Near the end of breakfast, Delia and Cythera came over to Alanna's table and sat down on either side of her. Lady Winfred, who was sitting across from her, gave her a quick smile and said, "Daughters of Tortall, I make my leave."

Alanna gave her a pleading look that clearly said, '_Please don't leave me here alone with her!'_

Winfred pretended not to notice and left. Alanna smiled, weakly, at her companions. Cythera returned smile for smile. She was very blonde and very beautiful. The most eye-catching lady at court perhaps. Though Delia, and now Helena, both gave her a run for her money. Speaking of Delia, she was wearing her signature green and had her dark curls clipped to both sides. She smiled at Alanna too but her eyes held a wild cunning within them. If Cythera was the slightly soft-brained woman you married, Delia was the mysterious, seductive mistress who you always kept at hand.

"Did Lady Winfred tell you we're to show you around, today?" Cythera asked, lightly, placing her hand under her chin to hold it up.

"Yes," Alanna nodded, finishing off her meal. Between these two pretty young ladies she felt rather ugly. She was a mere mule among stallions.

"Done? Let's go," Delia said, "We've got tons to show you. I don't know how you can ever keep yourself away from Tortall. Its court is so elegant and refined. The Scanran court is vulgar and full of brutes."

Alanna decided she ought to feel offended since her supposed father was Scanran, himself, "Actually, it's not that bad. Perhaps you get your feathers ruffled once in a while but that never does any harm."

"Shall we go to the menagerie first?" Cythera suggested, hastily, wishing to change the subject.

The two other girls agreed, eyeing each other carefully. Alanna knew that Delia didn't hate her quite yet but she must dislike her by now. Alanna was in a position that Delia wanted to be in. Surrounded by royalty all the time. To _be_ royal herself.

They exited the castle and came onto the sweeping lawns outside. The grass was still green but it was beginning to yellow. The leaves were already beginning to fall from the trees and Alanna sensed that Midwinter Festival was not very far away. Cythera and Delia headed towards the menagerie, purposefully, and Alanna dawdled, trying to act like she didn't know the way too.

"How are the men in Scanra?" Delia questioned, looking giggly all of a sudden.

Alanna felt her own face go red. She hadn't realized that even Delia was a young girl of only fifteen or sixteen too. "They're...fine."

"Can't be as handsome as the men here at court," Cythera's eyes glazed over.

Delia rolled her eyes and looked to Alanna's confused face, "This idiot over here believes she's in love."

"Who's this person she loves, exactly?" Alanna demanded, leaving her hands hung limply at her sides.

Alanna felt an odd sensation then. Curiousity about someone's lovelife. She feared it was her feminine impulses acting up. She knew no good could come of this. Dressing up as a girl, giving her guiltier urges a reason to believe she could be a noble lady as well as a Knight. She brushed it away.

Cythera broke out of her daze, "He's a friend of the Prince's."

"Sir Raoul?" Alanna stated the first name that came into her mind. She _had _been hanging around him a lot.

However, the beautiful blonde only made a face, "Everyone thinks that you know. I don't know why. The only reason I'm ever around himis because he's a nice friend to me and he's close to Gary."

"_Gary?_" Alanna spluttered, causing Delia to raise her eyebrows.

She had never-Not Gary-It couldn't be...Alanna couldn't possibly bring herself to imagine Cythera loving Gary when she was near him so little. Her Naxen friend was always in the shadow of his more handsome, princely cousin and his sharp tongue and cynical humor were not usually considered admirable traits. Not that Alanna minded. Oh no, she loved her friend greatly. But to imagine Cythera, one who could have anyone at in the palace, to love the court's own jester was hard to believe.

"You sound surprised for someone who knows almost nothing about either of them," Delia commented, raptly breaking Alanna out of her stupefied thoughts.

She tried to shrug it off, "I am rather surprised. I thought you fancied Sir Raoul."

Cythera smiled, "I like him but I love Gary."

"Does Sir Gareth know this?" Alanna asked, knowing it was impossible that he knew. If he did, he'd fall into her arms in a matter of seconds.

"No and I couldn't tell him," Cythera blushed, "I'm afraid he'll reject me since he knows me so little."

'_How very wrong you are_,' Alanna thought, '_Gary could never refuse a pretty face like your's_.'

Instead she said, "I think you should tell him."

"You think she'll listen?" Delia demanded, always cynical, "I give her the same advice three times a day."

"That's because you're so comfortable around all men!" Cythera cried, sounding upset, "You've charm which I don't have, Delia. You've even been courted by the Prince for Mithros sake!"

Alanna's face darkened at this and Delia noticed, "Not anymore I'm not. I'm guessing he has another."

Her eyes were on Alanna's face so the Lioness said, quickly, "I don't know, if that's what you're thinking. My cousin and I aren't that close."

"Oh. I had hoped you would know," Delia sighed, dramatically, "Oh well, it's for the best. I don't know who he's courting and he doesn't know who I'm courting. All's fair."

Cythera's eyes widened, "You're courting someone? Why haven't you told me?"

"A lady must have her secrets, 'thera," Delia explained, casually stroking her dark tresses, "Here's the gates to the menagerie, Alanna. Come, ignore the King's Own. They're naught but show pieces."

The men of the Own seemed to have heard and looked rather offended but could not retort since Delia had not spoken far from the truth. The King's Own had once been a group of some of the most elite Knights in the realm. Over the years they became nothing but trinkets of glory and wealth. Today, most of the King's Own had neither witnessesd war and some had not even left Corus in their many years of service.

The Tortallan menagerie was not the best in all the world but that didn't mean it didn't come in a close second. Large and wide, it was home to a number of creatures. Sadly, some looked out at Alanna through cages. Whenever she was here she tried to divert her eyes from all the monkies and parrots and other such animals that looked at her with eyes that looked so human, it made her feel guilty.

"Let's go to the elephants," Cythera suggested, "Have you ever seen elephants, Lady Alanna?"

The Lioness shook her head even though she knew what an elephant was. She'd seen one or two the first time she'd been to the menagerie. They were still kept on that same plateau as they had been the last time. They stood around, lazily, looking bored.

Alanna tried to look at them in awe as she had done the first time she'd seen them and stood a bit farther away from Delia and Cythera so that they could have a private chat. Even though she pretended she couldn't hear, Alanna couldn't help but eavesdrop. Goddess, she was becoming more and more like Gary everyday!

"Who're you with? Tell me, please?" Cythera begged, speaking softly but urgently.

"I'll give you a clue. He's handsome and powerful. _Very _powerful," Delia hinted.

Though Cythera whispered back, "Who? That doesn't tell me much. Everyone at court is powerful and most are handsome."

Alanna sensed she knew. Handsome and very powerful...it was starting to sound an awful lot like Roger of Conte. She shook the thought off. Even if they were together, this information meant no real significance to herself.

'_At least_,' she thought, '_Not yet, it doesn't_.'

* * *

For the ball that evening Alanna dawned a silk gown that was entirely smooth and white except for a large diamond pendant that sat between her breasts. The neckline was lower than it had ever been before. As opposed to the morning, in which the maids had left her hair wild and beautifully unkept, this evening it was slicked up into a bun that made her face more elegant that it actually was. Her face paints were light and glossy and she wore hardly any jewellery save for a silver rimmed ring on her right hand. Tonight's feetkillers were of the same white silk and fitted her feet to a par. They were slightly more comfortable than the shoes she'd worn before so she was grateful. 

"You look lovely, dear," Lady Winfred complimented her, when Alanna had met up with her in the hall.

The Lioness gave her a bittersweet smile, "No, _you _look lovely. I'm mediocre as usual."

"A noble lady accepts her compliments gratefully and graciously, Alanna," Winfred warned her.

"How can I accept compliments that aren't really mine?" Alanna asked, quietly to Winfred as they started off to the Ballroom, "This-all this-do you think it's really me? It's all just play acting. What you're wearing, what you're doing, that's really you. And it's beautiful."

She surprised herself by suddenly wishing this whole 'Alanna of Conte' was really a part of her. Not a large part but still a part of her. She looked at Lady Winfred who was wearing a golden gown with a golden net over it that was embroided with black sequins. She wore a black veil that cut across her eyes and gave her the dramatic air of someone very royal and very regal.

Winfred was silent for a moment, when she finally spoke, her words surprised Alanna, "How do you know this is really me?"

Alanna blushed, "I don't know, I suppose."

Again, a silence ensued. Then, "When I was younger I was very much like you, prettyness. I always wanted glory for myself and for my country. I wanted to be a hero. It sounds foolish coming from someone who was once a proper Princess and knew she would have to serve her Crown in a different way, doesn't it? But I was young...and had ambitious dreams. I don't know if anyone told you or not but a few years back I comissioned for my-_the_ kingdom to allow girls to train as Knights."

"Oh?" Alanna said, trying to sound surprised even though Jon had mentioned it.

"Yes, and I failed. I was so angry I left Tortall. I left home. And I married a Scanran to spite my father and my brother," Lady Winfred spoke, slowly, seeming to be choosing her words carefully, "If you're anything like me, I'm guessing you have a rabid temper. Never let it get the best of you, prettyness or else you might just lose the person you love the most. I lost my brother."

"Announcing Lady Winfred of Conte, Royal Aunt of Tortall and her daughter, Lady Alanna of Conte, Royal Niece of Tortall," a herald called out, as Alanna and Winfred descended down the stairs into the Ballroom.

Alanna had not even noticed they had already arrived until the herald interrupted their chatter. The Ballroom was beautifully decorated and the beauty was magnified by the majestic swans that some called Nobles who weredancing and gossiping and debating and flirting all across the room in gorgeous silks and satins. The Lioness also noted the pages were present, serving drinks and other hor d'oeuvres. The squires were there too but as guests.

"Winfred!" someone yelped and the two woman who had just entered turned around. A woman in a bright blue gown was striding towards them, a grin on her face. "Is that really you, Winnie?"

The confused look slid off Alanna's fake mother's face and was replaced by a wicked grin, "Don't tell me it's Devrah of Dunlath?"

"Tis, my good friend, 'tis!" Devrah of Dunlath cried, overjoyed, "It's been so long since I've seen or heard from you! And, Mithros, this is jewel your daughter?"

Winfred nodded and nudged Alanna forward. She curtsied and said, timidly, "Alanna of Conte, my lady."

"I have a daughter your age," Devrah noted, "Her name's Yolane. I'm sure she'll help you around the palace if you ask her. Now, Winnie, you must come with me and meet up with the other ladies. Everyone's here tonight. Jaquelyn, Armada, Gade..."

Alanna bobbed her head and made leave of the conversation. She would leave the older women to catch up on their own. While she was here, she might as well enjoy herself by meeting up with her friends. Her eyes scanned the room for Jon or Gary or Raoul or anyone for that matter. She did not have to search long because a minute or so later someone knelt to speak, softly behind her.

"Lady Alanna."

She turned around and there stood Geoffery of Meron, grinning foolishly with Douglass at his side, looking oft embarrassed.

"Why Geoffery, it's good to see you again," Alanna said, cheerfully because she was supposed to be enjoying this court experience, "And who's your friend?"

"Lady Alanna of Conte, Douglass of Veldine," Geoffery introduced the two of them, "Ignore that blush of his. He gets it around all women."

Alanna smiled, warmly, loving her friends' company more than ever, "And where are the other's? Sirs Gary and Raoul?"

"Off with Jonathan, m'lady," Douglass said, matter-of-factly, "Would you like us to help you look for them?"

"Look for who?" a deep Naxen baritone voice demanded, creeping up on them, "Not me, surely?"

"Surely not," Geoffery teased, "Especially notwhen a lady is present."

Gary, Raoul and Jonathan had all come up around them. Alanna inspected Gary more closely than usual because of what she'd found out about Cythera and him this afternoon. She scanned Raoul. He was his same old self. She hadn't really expected him to change in the span of two days but she still missed him. As usual her eyes finally lingered and landed on Jon, watching him move gracefully as he bowed to her and she to him in turn. His hair was tousled, lightly, as if fingers had been going through them only moments before. Alanna suddenly wished it had been her fingers.

"Raoul, you've not met cousin Alanna yet have you?" Jon questioned, politely, indicating an introduction about to come.

He shook his head, "Not in flesh and blood no but I've met your persona a thousand times over as Alan described you to me. It's an honor to finally meet you, Lady."

Her hand passed under his lips and it felt very strange. Particularly when she'd seen him do many times before but never to her. Suddenly, she realized with a shock, she was that girl that they allcrowded around. She looked out of her circle of friends and noticed many of the young noble ladies giving her dirty looks and who wouldn't, what with her hogging all the most handsome men at court.

"The honor is all mine," Alanna assured, "Any friend of Alan's is a friend of mine."

"Alanna," someone greeted her warmly. Delia. "Nice to see you've already made so many good friends at court. Look, now you're already mingling with the most desirable men in the room."

Everyone in the circle but Alanna grinned at her arrival. She was wearing a bronze gown with an even lower neckline than Alanna's gown if that was possible. Alanna was afraid that any second something would pop out giving tremendous joy to her friends. She also feared that Jon would find himself enamoured with her again if he spent enough time with her.

"You're too kind, Lady Delia," Geoffery said, looking in awe of her beauty.

Delia looked at him, blankly, not knowing who he really was.

"You're adorable. For a squire," was her verdict.

Alanna clenched her fists at her sides. Who was she to judge any of her friend's? However, she couldn't exactly say anything. Geoffery, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind that she'd judged him at all. He looked like his knees might buckle at the sight of her.

"Your Highness, that royal blue, it looks stunning on you," she said, turning her attention on Jonathan.

Instantly, the other boys were put off. Already they were beginning to leave the band they'd just had. Raoul and Douglass went off to a corner where they could get refreshments, Geoffery went to a gathering of young ladieson another side of the dance floor, and Gary, to Alanna's great pleasure, went to say hello to Cythera. They knew they had no chance with a woman once she'd spied Jonathan. He was far more handsome than anyone else _and _he could promise any lady he married the title of Queen of Tortall. What was not to like about that?

'_What indeed?_' Alanna wondered to herself, studying her Knightmaster, quietly.

She found herself drifting away from him too. Alanna knew she was supposed to look like she'd been to court all her life but she couldn't. She was lost in this world of colors and movement. In less than ten minutes she found herself out on the balcony in the moonlight, hearing the music spill out into the night air in soft notes. She sighed, feeling restless, and stared out onto the full moon, far away.

She thought of Lady Winfred and what she'd said about quick tempers and broken dreams. For someone who seemed so perfect on the outside, she was very torn and regretful on the inside. Alanna hoped she wouldn't be like her fake mother one day. Speaking of mothers...

'_Who were you, I wonder_,' Alanna said in her mind, thinking the thought she'd pushed away from herself over the many years, '_Who were you, mother of mine, sister to vicious Catherine and wife to a man who even on his deathbed was busy with his nose in a book?_'

"I must say I'm surprised to see a lady of your beauty all alone tonight," someone quiet-someone sweet whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her neck and cheek.

She turned to look at the handsome Knight (and Prince) standing to her right. He was leaning against the parapet railings just as she was. His blue eyes gleamed in the dark and his face was expressionless.

She smiled at what was he saying, remembering this conversation word for word, "I'm not alone anymore, am I? Not now that you grace me with your company."

He grinned, happy that she remembered, "Why don't we move this conversation to the dance floor, m'lady?"

Alanna made a face, "We're still joking, right? You're not really serious, are you?"

"I believe your line was 'That can be arranged'," Jon said, the corners of his mouth twitching, "And yes, I was serious. Why don't we dance?"

"Because I can't dance!" Alanna protested, face flushed, "I'll only embarrass you and myself."

"Come on. You're getting better," Jon pointed out.

"No," Alanna said, firmly, arms crossed over her chest.

"But why?" he demanded, looking to be on the verge of pouting.

She looked at him, sharply, "Why do you want to dance with me so badly?"

He shrugged, trying to seemed platonic, "Just...because."

"Not a good enough answer," The Lioness stated, frowning.

"Please?" he tried again.

She shook her head.

"For me? As a Mindwinter Festival present?" he asked, taking a different angle.

"Midwinter Festival is not for another few weeks," Alanna responded, coldly.

She made the mistake of looking at his face and saw the longing there and gave in, "But..._oh_, alright! I give up. I know what you're trying to do. Embarrass me in front of the entire court..."

He grinned, shaking off her last few words, and taking her hand, he led her inside. Another melody had only just started up and they joined in it, quickly. Fortunately for Alanna it wasn't very difficult. In fact, it was very much like the waltz they'd practiced in Lady Winfred's chambers. The lady in question was looking down at Alanna from her table and smiling to herself.

"Faithful's been pining for you these past two days, you know," Jonathan leaned in and said into her ear.

"Let him suffer," Alanna grumbled, "The day I left for this he gave me a mighty hurtful scratch on my calve."

The dance continued and Alanna was so caught up in the magic of the moment. So caught up in the tingling feelings shooting up and down her spine and the butterflies in her stomach that she brought herself to believe nothing could go wrong that night. After at least three dances with her Knightmaster, she settled down into a chair while he went to fetch them some drinks, not knowing her face was aglow with the beauty of the moment. She had been in his prescence as a girl and hadn't humiliated either of them! Better yet, she had also made the better half of the female population on the room extremely envious of her. A conversation broke her out of her reverie.

"Red-faced after dancing with the Prince," a lady noted, chuckling evilly, "What a pity that she chose the wrong cousin to fancy."

"And what, Serena, could you ever mean by that?" another implored, sounding eager to hear gossip.

"Well," the first said, smugly, "It's not fact yet but as close as that the King's niece from Scanra is bethrothed to Lady Georgia's son."

"Not, His Grace, Roger of Conte?" the second cried out in dismay.

"The very same," the Lady One affirmed, "Although, rumor also has it that neither Lady Winfred nor Lady Alanna have a clue about the engagement. Apparently Roger's mother and Alanna's father have been negotiating this without anyone else's approval. Of course, the Conte Duke is in on this, clever as he is."

Lady Two sighed, deeply, "Another handsome Tortallan man lost to Scanra..."

Alanna listened in on this, heart thumping in her chest. Her face was pale. _Her marry Roger? _Her eyes rolled and she fell off her chair in a dead faint.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Not much Catherine and Helena in this chapter but they'll be there next chapter. And as will a more detailed explaination on this claimed engagement between Alanna and Roger. I heart sticky situations. 

**winky-wink**


	8. Oblivious

**Disclaimer: **A few characters, major and minor are mine. Same with most of the plot. Although Lady Catherine is a creation of Tamora Pierce, as is everything else.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Jonathan

**Musical Affection: **'Chor Diya (the Ultimate Sacrifice)' by _Raghav _and some rapper and an Indian chick.

**Author's Note: epobbp: **Yep, it was Abigail. Bethrothed to Roger and not even knowing it! Horrible, hey?

**Confusedknight: **Yeah, can't you just? Will you believe it gets even more complicating? And don't worry updates won't take long at all with this story or, at least, I hope not. And thanks a bunch too.

**Padme Amidala2121: **Yeah, that's probably one of the longest chapters I've ever written for any of my stories. It comes pretty naturally with this story, though. And, yes, Roger and Alanna marrying is very creepy lol.

Yeah I know last chapter with the fainting was rather cliche but have you noticed that Alanna faints a lot? Have you? Anyways, brace yourselves. Everything gets more and more complicated as the story goes on. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! And I'd _really _appreciate it if you reviewed, good or bad.

* * *

'_It is only by closing the ears of the soul or by listening too intently to the clamors of sense, that we become oblivious to their utterances_'-Alexander Crummell

* * *

Alanna wrinkled her nose as she felt someone fan her face, rapidly. She fluttered her eyes and opened them to see Lady Winfred standing over her, holding an emerald green fan. She looked relieved when Alanna came to conciousness, although her face was still pale and disturbed. The Lioness blinked once more and struggled to sit up in bed. Someone had practically drowned her in blankets. 

She looked about her and realized she had been rushed to someone's bedroom after fainting. Aside from Winfred; Cythera, Jonathan, Delia, Lady Sheila, the Carthaki, Roger and Duke Baird were all present and tending to her. They were all still wearing their elegant outfits from the ball which meant she hadn't been unconcious for very long. The King's primary healer looked rather annoyed at being called away from his rather more important duties just to tend to a noble lady that had fainted of shock.

"Alanna, thank the Great Mother Goddess you've awakened," Cythera sighed, coming to her bedside.

Alanna could only nod. Her head was still buzzing from what she'd just heard naught but a few moments before. She couldn't possibly get married! The urge to talk to Winfred and Jonathan about this was now stronger than ever.

"What happened to you?" Jonathan ventured, moving closer too.

The Lioness opened her mouth to speak and found it was too dry. With a gulp, she tried again, "I-I think I fainted from the heat. Too many people in the room, I suppose."

Lady Sheila, Delia and Cythera all nodded at this even though the others looked skeptical. Alanna caught Roger's eye from one fleeting second and looked away, both afraid and embarrassed.

Duke Baird's cough broke the awkward silence, "If Her Grace excuses me? I think it's fine if I make my leave now. To you, my Lady Alanna, I suggest that you keep to your rooms tonight. You'll be fine by tomorrow, I'm sure."

He bowed to Lady Winfred and Lady Sheila before exiting. Alanna wished she could be as inclined to leave the room right now. Some of the people weren't exactly the company she was overjoyed to keep. She wasn't in the mood to act like a noble lady of all times now but she rose from bed, her gown clinging to her, and curtsied, weakly, to Lady Sheila and Jonathan before sitting back down on the bed, strength lost.

"You shouldn't be bowing," Jonathan urged, looking concerned, "You need to rest."

She looked him in the eye and hoped tried to send a frantic message, '_I need to talk to you!_'

He looked away, not giving any inclination that he'd understood her plea for privacy. Delia caught the look and glanced sharply at Roger, wondering if he'd noticed it too. He had and kept watching both his cousins, trying to hide his displeasure and curiousity. Even Winfred noticed but she kept it to herself like Roger and Jonathan. Only Cythera and Lady Sheila were oblivious.

"Alanna, why don't we take to your chambers? We can't have you staying here all night or else where would my dear Roger sleep?" Winfred suggested, relieving Alanna of an excuse to escape the room.

"Roger sleeps here?" Alanna demanded, distressed, face going red. She leaped off the bed as if she'd been burned. She would never in a million years _ever_ lie here beside her enemy. Even if it meant losing her Knighthood, would she? Her blush was deepening by the second and everyone in the room, other than Lady Sheila and Cythera were oblivious as to why. Roger could barely conceal a prickly smirk.

"Yes and you're welcome to stay here if you want," Roger started, stepping forward.

"No!" Alanna cried, then added more rationally, "I mean, no. No, I couldn't. I really need to be in the comfort of my own chambers. Sorry to all of you, I must go. Mother, could you escort me?"

"I'll help too," Jonathan offered, taking her arm. Winfred took the other.

Before anyone could protest they were out the door and around the corner. Alanna's face was still pale from shock. None of them spoke, knowing whatever she had to say would be best said in the privacy of her chambers. Jonathan knocked on the great marble door as Carly opened it and let them in.

Seeing Alanna, she exclaimed, "My Lady! What's happened to you? You look as pale as a scroll!"

"Carly, Lydia, the rest of you all, get out," Winfred ordered, bluntly.

The servingmaids scurried together and piled out in a pack, looking utterly confused. Jonathan helped Alanna into a red velvet chair as Lady Winfred straightened her gownwhich had been rumpled by supporting Alanna's weight. The Lioness sat in her chair, holding a shaking hand in front of her, trying with all her might to steady it. However hard she tried, it wouldn't stop its quiver. Alanna was frightened and there was no way around it. She hated being scared like a lost pup.

"Alanna," Lady Winfred said, briskly, "What is the matter with you? Fainting in the middle of ball! Attracting all sorts of attention you shouldn't be attracting! You nearly gave the court a heartattack! Many thought that the niece of the King was dead! _I _thought the niece of the King was dead!"

"I'm sure Alanna has a perfectly good explanation," Jonathan cut through, "She isn't the type to faint over nothing."

Winfre pursed her lips, "There are better ways to handle surprise."

Alanna glared at her, "Not this sort of surprise! I heard two women whispering about me!"

"Women whisper about women all the time," Winfred retorted, haughtily.

"This was extremely bad whispering," Alanna croaked, "They...they said that they'd heard rumors that I was bethrothed to Roger."

Winfred gave a acute intake of breath and Jonathan paled then said, "Rubbish! Not a word of it's true. I would've-Father would've known. Aunt Winfred in the very least would've known."

Lady Winfred did not look quite so sure about that but replied, shakily, "Quite right, nephew. I certainly would've been in on this."

"The noble ladies were saying it was also rumored that neither you nor I knew about this," Alanna pointed out, "And if they were right about me, what's to say they weren't right about you? What if my supposed father _has _bethrothed me to Duke Roger?"

"Impossible," Winfred said with much more confidence than she felt.

Alanna arched an eyebrow and she went on to say, "But I will discuss this matter with my husband in case I am wrong but I highly doubt it."

She was still not reassured and neither were Winfred and Jonathan. All of them had known _something _suspicious was in the works. What with Roger's treatment of her and the whispering. Light at first but growing more and more insistent. Alanna was beginning to learn that anything the maids hinted at, usually had a grain of truth behind it. Her mind worked furiously for a way to get out of this. She had gotten out of everything else, hadn't she?

"Alanna, just...stop thinking and strategising for one second," Jonathan advised, "It's getting late...I should get back to the ball...father will be looking for me..."

"Go," Alanna said, "I don't want you to stick around here on my account."

A knot in her stomach constricted. In all truth she wanted with all her heart for him to stay with her, especially when she was so confused and afraid.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes still lit with worry.

She forced a smile onto her face, "_Go_ already, will you? And-she added as he turned to leave-have fun."

He nodded, slowly, and left the room. Winfred eyes grazed Alanna and she smiled, "Ah, youthful oblivion."

"Huh?" Alanna looked at her, brows furrowed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It _means,"_ Winfred smirked, "That you fancy my nephew and he fancies you but you're both oblivious to the other person's affections and too full of pride to admitt your own."

Alanna blushed ten sorts of red and immediately reprimanded herself for it. It would only give the royal Aunt more absurd ideas. "You don't know a thing! And I do not like him and he most certaintly does not like me! He even told me that he has a woman he's courting."

"Are you not a woman?" Winfred demanded, clearly amused. Alanna was not.

A knock came at the door. The fake mother and daughter looked at each other, wondering who it could be before Winfred went to open the door. Alanna curled her knees to her chest and sat on the bed like a little girl might. The door was opened to reveal Lady Catherine, standing there, looking furious and Helena was at her side, looking equally displeased.

"I demand to see my niece," Catherine told Winfred.

"I know no niece of yours," Winfred replied and for one frightening moment the two older women glared at each other.

Catherine looked past Winfred and noticed Alanna on the bed, "There! There she is! That witch of a woman...dressing up as a man! Then as royalty! What nerve! What treachery!"

"If you do not lower your voice I will have to call my guards," Winfred spoke, coldly.

Lady Catherine looked like she wanted to hit the other woman for a brief time but then she fell silent. Winfred widened the door and she entered, her daughter at her heel. Catherine observed the room with an upturned nose. She was trying not to show it but Alanna knew she was burning of jealously of how much more splendid these chambers were compared to her own. Winfred closed the door behind her and came to sit at her dark oak table, hands placed gently in her lap.

"Pray tell, Lady Catherine, why have you come?" Winfred questioned, coolly.

"This-," Catherine pointed at Alanna for exaggeration, "-girl, is an imposter! She's not Alanna of Conte! She's Alanna of _Trebond_!"

Winfred laughed, "My dear lady, do you not think I would haverealized that for myself? Do you think me so stupid as to mistake this 'imposter' as you so nicely put it as my daughter?"

Catherine blanched and Helena spat out her words first, "Then why do you keep her? To what means? She is nothing to you."

"I am simply helping out another human being," Winfred told her as if she pitied her lack of knowledge, "I know women like you, Lady Helena, and you could never understand such a thing as kindness for another living creature other than yourself."

Helena went red and even Alanna was shocked by the boldness of Winfred's words. Then again, if you were sister to the King, you could afford to offend some people. As angry as Helena looked by this insult to her virtues, Lady Catherine was seething.

"You dare speak so to me? To my daughter? We are of the bluest blood, my lady!" Catherine cried, then turned to Alanna, "You also will pay for this, niece. No longer expect to become a Knight!"

Alanna rose from the bed, trying not to show she was afraid of this threat, "I'll break your face!"

She leaped to get to her Aunt but Winfred held out an ankle, which she promptly tripped over in her irrational fury. She glared up at her 'mother', "Who's side are you on?"

"The side that _isn't _barbaric," Winfred responded, holding out a hand to help Alanna up, "You'll soon learn, Lady Squire, that fighting isn't always the answer."

"You host a she-male," Catherine snarled, "And I will have her punished for this!"

Alanna clenched her fists until her knuckles were white. She wouldn't dare...

'_Yes she would_,' a voice in her mind croaked, '_This is a woman who tried to marry her sister's widowed husband, after all_.'

The Lioness could not accept the fact that she might never become a Knight. She couldn't go to the Convent! Would they force her to? If they did, perhaps she should start packing her bags now. If she was quick she could be in Tusaine in a week...

Her thoughts were instantly interrupted by Winfred, "Punish her, will you? I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"Come to what?" Helena inquired, against her better judgement.

"Come to where I would have to begin revealing secrets of my own," Winfred explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, as she always did, "You know, where I admitt I've been investigating you and your mother. And I came across some very fascinating skeletons. Like those of your past two husbands for instance."

Catherine paled, "You have no clue what you're delving into."

"Oh but I do," Winfred grinned, "Or so the servingman, Jakob, says."

Helena's eyes blazed and Catherine looked at a loss for words. Alanna looked between all of them, not sure what had just happened. Somehow the power had shifted from her Gallan family and had come to Lady Winfred, who was smiling triumphantly. Neither did she know Jakob but she had a feeling that he was a key figure to the inquiries about the deaths of Lord Erik of Sommerset and Duke Thyler of Galla.

"What do you want of me?" Catherine whispered, looking at Winfred's knees.

Winfred smiled, softly. She would've looked pretty had it not been for the dangerous gleam in her eyes, "Do not make trouble for my daughter."

Alanna caught Helena's eyes and she curled her bottom lip, spitefully. Alanna relished in her new found power. She knew Helena was just dying because Alanna was so well favored by various members of the royal family. Including the Prince, she thought and felt a tingling, giddy, feeling in her stomach.

Catherine looked like she struggled with her response to this and squeaked, "Fine."

Winfred's smile grew broader, "Wonderful. Say good night to your Aunt and your cousin, Alanna."

"Good night," Alanna murmured, feeling slightly queasy at the look Catherine gave her. It clearly said, '_This is not over yet_.'

* * *

One more day, Alanna told herself over and over again, one more day of masquerading and then I can get back to being a squire. Starting tomorrow morning she would be able to return to her own chambers and dress up as a boy all over again and forget about this whole entire mess. However, she knew that was impossible. Even when she became Alan again, Alanna of Conte would haunt her as long as Lady Winfred remained at the palace. And the royal Aunt gave no inclinations of leaving anytime soon. She sighed and rose from bed when her servingmaids entered. She was grumpy and they noticed it so they kept quiet throughout most of the dressing proccess. 

In twenty minutes or so Alanna found herself heading towards the Noble's Mess Hall, dressed in a lilac gown, embroidered in a darker purple. Her hair was tied up into a ponytail and held there by a purple ribbon set with an amethyst. The Lioness wasthankful for not finding her hair in her face for one simple day. She sat down at a table alone and stared at her white palms for a bit. After a boring minute or so she looked up and observed the room. It seemed today, as a opposed to yesterday, she was rather early. Few nobles had arrived and those that had looked to be in a rush to get going. Helena and Delia were both already here and chatting amiably which made Alanna uneasy. Suppose Helena let Alanna's secret slip to Delia? What ends would she use it to? Alanna wished she could read lips more than ever but found she couldn't. She wanted more than ever for George to be here since he was so talented in these areas. Pehaps she'd visit him tomorrow...

"Are mornings not your thing, cousin?"

Alanna bit her lip to stop the groan that had been forcing it's way to her throat at those words. Of all the people she wanted to see this morning, Roger was not one of them. He, however, seemed to be very much the morning person. He was wearing a handsome black robe that blended with his dark hair and made his icicle-like eyes stand out with a certain radiance that made Alanna sick to the stomach.

"No," Alanna replied, her voice hollow, "No, they are not."

She had hoped her short answer and snippity behavior would turn him off her. Give him the hint that she didn't wish to speak with anyone, _least _of all him. He seemed ignorant to all this or if he did notice, he didn't give a damn. He took the chair beside her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, settling into his chair.

"Better," she murmured.

"What are your plans for the day?" he questioned, checking his nails for any sign of dirt. He was infamous for hisdesire to be clean always.

Alanna shrugged, "I have none."

"I hear Delia and Cythera were showing you around yesterday," Roger continued, leaving her unaware of what he was trying to say.

"Yup," she answered, getting annoyed.

"What think you of them? Of Delia?" Roger asked, trying not to look at her.

The Lioness raised an eyebrow, "Fine. She was fine."

"Fine, yes," Roger agreed, "But entirely impossible. Not half so clever as she thinks."

"Why do you ask what I think of her when you have such a strong opinion of her person?" Alanna demanded.

"Just wondering," he smiled at her, although his eyes were distant.

Alanna bobbed her head, "Hmm...well as I mentioned she's fine. She'll make her husband a truely fortunate and lucky man."

"And you?" he inquired, "What will you make your husband?"

Her heart started beating loudly but not out of romance but fright. He knew she knew. He knew she knew _and _he knew she had fainted at the thought of it. Why wouldn't he just leave her alone? What use was his Scanran cousin to him? It would've been all the much easier if he just declared his love for Delia and married her. Speaking of the she-devil, Alanna caught her eye and saw a jealous spark there. To think that she was envious of her and Roger!

"I will _never _marry," Alanna whispered, believing it to be true with all her heart.

Roger laughed and Alanna saw Delia's face pale. She probably thought that Alanna had just told some good joke and that Roger was howling about it. She thought they were flirting but she wouldn't be suspicious unless she knew about the said engagement. Who else knew? Alanna wondered to herself.

"You're a rampant one, aren't you?" Roger said, a stupid smirk on his face, "Though I'm sure I know someone that may tame you."

'_Maybe there are men who may tame me but never you_,' Alanna thought, harshly.

"Mind if I join you two younglings with my age?" Winfred asked, sweeping her skirts out as she sat. She need not wait for an answer.

Roger leapt up and helped push in her chair, eyes still on Alanna. She looked away and back to her paper white palms. She put her hands together so that the lines sweeping across them made a smile.

"Morning Alanna," Winfred greeted her, "Early today I see."

"Too early," Alanna muttered in response, "And good morning to you too."

Lady Winfred smiled at her obvious frumpy behavior and Alanna couldn't stop herself from returning it.

"Thank Mithros you've arrived, Aunt," Roger began, "You cause your daughter to smile after wasted seconds of frowns and furrowed eyebrows. "

"I told you I don't like mornings," Alanna grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest so Roger would _have _to stop looking there.

"I remember when you were younger you liked them just fine," Roger commented, drumming his arms on the table.

Imposter mother and imposter daughter looked at one another, nervously. Winfred changed the subject. "So, what are you doing today Alanna?"

Before she could answer, Roger cut through, "Actually I was hoping Lady Alanna could come out riding with me. She has yet to see the splendors of the royal forest."

Roger leaned forward towards Winfred and behind him Alanna was slicing her hand across her throat to show what she thought of that prospect. She'd rather sew than be out riding and touring the palace grounds with the Duke of Conte!

Lady Winfred was a good actress so therefore she looked as if she was considering the thought for a moment before saying, "Well, yes I suppose...although...oh wait! Great Mother Goddess! I'd forgotten I'd promised Devrah and the other ladies from court that I'd introduce Alanna to them over stitchery. I'm sorry, Roger, but Alanna must come with me today. You'll forgive an old woman's forgetfulness, won't you?"

He looked for a moment that he knew she was lying and did not very well want to forgive her. However the moment passed and soon he was all the gracious and caring nephew. "Forgive you? But what is there to forgive? It's all fine by me."

Soon after, though, when the meal began, he left their table to go sit with Delia. Alanna let out a sigh of relief and thanked Winfred over and over again for getting her out of a day of riding through beautiful scenery, side-saddle, with Roger.

"So what _am _I to do, really?" Alanna implored halfway through breakfast.

Winfred looked at her as if she was an idiot before replying with, "Why to meet Lady Devrah and the other ladies over stitchery of course!"

Alanna blanched, then giggled furiously for about two minutes in which Winfred looked on with a disapproving, yet almost motherly, frown. When she had finally caught her breath, she asked again, "No really. What am I doing?"

"Lady Alanna of Conte! Do not be pert with me! I already told you twice before. We're going to introduce you to Lady Devrah and the other ladies of court over stitchery."

Alanna made a face, "No."

Winfred grinned, "Yes."

The Lioness' face was suddenly darkened by a scowl. Alright, she'd admitt, she'd thought that she'd rather sew than be out riding and touring the palace grounds with Roger but that didn't meant she actually expected herself to be sewing as opposed to riding with him!

'_Life's unfair_,' she thought bitterly, '_I hope none of this gets back to Jon or Faithful or George. If it does, I'll never hear the end of it._'

* * *

The noble ladies of court practiced stitching, sewing, knitting and embroidering in a large cushioned room that was flanked with comfortable chairs and love seats. As soon as Alanna entered the room her nose caught a whiff of perfume in the air. The mix of everyone's scent together made for a very intoxicating smell. A slightly chubby, pasty faced, blonde-haired girl had a particularly horribly strong scent of some flower on her body. And, of course, as luck would have it, Alanna would end up sitting beside her. 

"Ladies, I'd like you all to meet my daughter, Lady Alanna," Winfred told everyone once they'd gotten there.

The eldest ladies looked on with smiles, as did the middle-aged ones. The younger ones were rather less welcoming. Instead, they looked at her with curiousity. Only Cythera grinned at her arrival and flagged her over to sew at her table. Alanna had taken a seat by Miss Chubby Pasty-Face. The table included the likes of Delia and Helena, who seemed to getting along very well to Alanna's great disapproval. Also, Lady Yuna of Tirragen and Lady Yolane of Dunlath, two of the younger women were present, as was a lady named Etta of Timberly. Miss Chubby Pasty-Face was named Roxanne of Norrington. After hearing her name, Alanna caught on that she wasthe girl that had been kissed by Gary in his page's years as a bet. He'd immediately been punished for it and was sentenced to a month of restriction to the palace. How she missed spending time with him and all the rest of her squire and Knight friends!

"How do you like Tortall, Lady Alanna?" Yuna asked, her long eyelashes curled.

"Oh, well, I haven't been here for long," Alanna replied, "But what I see, I like."

"I love your hair," Etta commented, stroking her brownish red hair, "It's so beautiful."

Alanna felt extremely uncomfortable at being touched. She was generally around males and, while they were friends, they never invaded each other's personal space. It wasn't all that restrictive...it was just that men didn't usually touch their other men friends. For women, however, the rules seemed to be entirely different.

"Thank you," Alanna said, not exactly sure if that's what you really _did _say to that sort of thing.

She looked down at her sewing. She hadn't even started doing anything. Alanna of Trebond, had been, for the last five minutes, trying to get the bloody string through the bloody hole in the bloody needle. All to no prevail. Her face was getting red as her temper started to rise.

"I can't do this!" she exclaimed, throwing her needlework on the table, angrily, "It's so stupid!"

"Well I never...," Yolane muttered, shocked at Alanna's behavior.

"I'm guessing you've never done this?" Cythera questioned, gently.

"Of course she hasn't," Etta clucked, "She's Tortallan royalty. She doesn't need to know how to sew, now does she?"

"I believe that isn't the reason dear Alanna is even worse at sewing than Lady Roxanne," Helena butted in, shaming Roxanne, "I believe she's never been trained in all these women's arts for a very good reason. I'm sure we'd all be inclined to hear it."

Alanna's face went red. She worked past her nerves and retorted, "Tell me, Lady Helena, how did your mother's husbands die again?"

She paled, her lips curled, "Bitch."

"Whore," Alanna snapped back in a quiet voice.

The rest of the ladies at the table blinked, dumbfounded. They argued amongst themselves yes, but never to the extent to which they used foul language on one another like a simple-minded commoner! There were things a noble could and couldn't do! Even Delia looked a little appalled.

'_Perhaps she doesn't know the special relationship Helena and I share afterall,_' Alanna thought with relief.

They all fell silently into stitchery after that. Cythera helped Alanna to 'thread her needle' and then procceeded to go so far as to work out the first couple of stitches as Alanna learned to get a hang of it. It was boring work but her nimble fingers worked quickly and neatly. Beside her, Roxanne and her sausage fingers were trying, furiously, to do their best but her needlework was even messier than the Lioness'.

"Helena," Lady Catherine called, after what seemed like hours of sewing, "It's time for us to get to our brunch with the Prince and his Naxen friend."

Alanna looked up. Brunch with Jonathan and Gary? Why? Helena caught her eyes and gave her a smug grin. Alanna looked away, not ready to admitt she was jealous. It was probably nothing. Even Delia looked miffed that Helena got to leave sewing early to be with her the Prince. Cythera looked as if she might die at the idea of someone else in Gary's presence without her.

Etta looked longingly after them as they left then turned back to Alanna, "What's he like?"

She glanced up from her stitchery, "Who?"

Etta and Yolane caught each other's eyes and giggled, frantically. Delia rolled her eyes at their childish behavior. "I'm talking about that god of a cousin you have."

"Roger?" Alanna questioned, confused. Delia glared at her, sharply, upon hearing his name. Alanna'd only said it because he was almost always on her mind now because she was in deep worry of this bethrothal.

"No! Although he is attractive. I mean the Prince, silly," Etta explained, "Now, come! Tell us about him!"

Roxanne and Cythera looked up from their work and even though Delia did not, Alanna could tell she was listening. They all wanted to know what the most handsome man in all of Tortall was like and who better to get that information from than his very cousin.

The Lioness cleared her throat, "Erm...I hate to disappoint you, girls, but I know him very little." Their faces dropped so she added, "But from what I know, he seems very kind and um-funny. Charming. Good dancer, that's for sure. And-and...when he smiles, his eyes glitter like gifts of Neptune..."

The other ladies looked between each other. It seemed as if the Prince's cousin was herself smitten with him! Yolane released a sigh of pleasure and whispered, "_I knew it_. I _knew _he was perfect! He's almost a god!"

Delia snorted, "What you feel for him is a child's infatuation, Yolane of Dunlath."

She glowered at Delia, "Is not! I feel as if I'm in love for your information! You're just petty because you had him and then you lost him."

"Ladies, please," Cythera mutuated them, "Let's change the topic to something else. Gary for example."

Everyone in the circle but Roxanne and Alanna groaned. Apparently, Cythera suggested this a lot.

"Must we always talk about him?" Etta complained, "Especially when his royal cousin is all the more better?"

Cythera's nostrils flared as if she had just taken personal offense, "I disagree."

"As do I," Roxanne said, boldly.

Yolane snickered and Delia remarked, "Of course you do, Roxy."

"She's been in love with him since he kissed her years ago on account of a bet," Delia said, quietly, as a side note to Alanna.

She mouthed an 'o', rather awestruck. She hadn't known that Gary's wild antics had actually felt a mark on someone. For Mithros sake, she thought it would be taken to all as it was taken to her. Stupid.

"I don't love him," Roxanne mumbled, softly, although it seemed even she didn't believe it herself.

Yuna comforted her, kindly, "Love is a strong word. Do not use it either way unless you're sure."

"Even if you do, even if we all do, it seems we have no chance anymore," Etta sighed, dramatically, "Since all our men-"

"-All our handsome men!" Yolane chorused.

"-Yes, all our handsome men," Etta agreed, "Have fallen under the spell of one Alanna of Conte."

She sighed dramatically once again for a grand effect.

Alanna blinked, fingers twitching, "Huh? Under my spell? No, no, no. I hardly know any of these men here."

"Yet you captured all of their attention at the last ball," Yolane countered, "The Prince for instance."

"And dear Gary," Cythera nudged in.

"And my Geoffery," Yuna's voice added.

"Isabelle's Douglass," Etta intoned, "Oh and, of course, Raoul of Goldenlake and his golden muscles."

She sighed dramatically and this time it annoyed Alanna to all ends. Did she _have _to sigh after every few sentences?

"Only one missing was small Alan of Trebond," Delia stated, speaking after a long time, "I wonder where he is?"

She looked at Alanna as she said this, making the Lioness' stomach turn over. Did she suspect? Did she know?

"Oh yes him," Yuna nodded, "I heard he's sick or so Geoffery said."

"Sick? Pity," Etta said, shaking her head, "He's rather cute in his own brooding way of course."

Alanna shifted in her chair, not liking the way in which this conversation was going. It was strange to hear one's name spoken romantically by others of one's sex. Not that she minded those who were comfortable with it. She just didn't like it for herself.

"I hear he's sleeping withNessa of Queenscove," Roxanne answered.

"I hear he's sleeping with Stefan, the hostler," Yolane reacted.

"I hear-," Cythera stopped and looked at Delia, "I hear he's sleeping with _you_. It's not true, is it?"

"It most certainly is not!" Alanna spluttered, her face red with humiliation. Was that really what word of the mouth said about her? Alan and Delia? Never! _Never!_

Everyone looked at her, surprised. Delia responded, slowly, looking at her, "It's not true. I can never hold that one's attention for more than a minute. You're not-you're not in love with him, are you?"

Alanna's face went crimson and the rest of them looked at her in awe. The royal Niece and squire Alan? Since when? He'd been sick since her arrival...

"Alanna?" Winfred called her, as she stood. Lydia and Carly came to her side. They were leaving.

"Coming mother!" Alanna called back, happy to leave. Lady Winfred had saved her once again!

* * *

The night was dark and dinner had only just ended. Delia of Eldorne was sneaking away to a chamber not far from the Ball Room. Her ballerina feet hardly made a sound on the floor. Her dark hair was pulled up into a high and overpowering ponytail. Her makeup was dark and stunning, just as she'd wanted it when she went to meet with her lover. She knocked on his door-once-twice-three times. Her knuckled fist had just pulled away from the door when it opened. 

No one had opened it since Roger was so dripped in the Gift that he'd just used that. He sat at his desk, shuffling through papers, looking exhausted. Delia came to him and in an instant she was kissing the back of his neck and was beginning to move onto his shoulder. His strong, fine-boned shoulder...

He shrugged her off, "Can we not do this right now?"

Delia was hurt but she would't embarrass herself by showing it, "What bothers you, my love?"

"Nothing that should bother you too," Roger muttered, crossly, "Now what do you want? I haven't called for you."

Delia sighed and went to sit on his bed. She knew this room as well as he did, she'd been in here so many times. Her fingers stroked the fur-lined blanket and she felt entirely at peace in this room. She looked at Roger and, though she would never admitt it to anyone, she really did love him.

"I...well I've been hearing rumors, Roger," she started, knowing she sounded like an idiot.

He arched an eyebrow, "Rumors? It's not like you to buy into them, 'lia."

"I know! I know," she murmured, "It's just that this one is so vile! I just want to hear the falsehood of it from your mouth."

He nodded, turning back to his work, "Go on."

"Uh...well, it claims that you-that you and...,"

"I haven't got all day," Roger snapped, impatiently.

She frowned. She _hated _it when he was in a bad mood. "It claims that you and your cousin-Alanna that is-are to be bethrothed and married."

Roger looked at her and Delia laughed, "I thought the same as you. Crazy, right?"

When he didn't laugh in response, she became seriously worried, "Right?"

He seemed to be mentally scolding himself then said, "Delia..."

"No," she gasped, "No. No. No. Tell me it's lies! Tell me it's all lies!"

"You don't understand!" Roger pleaded her to listen, "If I just kill off Uncle Roald and Aunt Lianne and cousin Jonathan, there is still unstability to unsue! But if I had one of the Tortallan royalty other than myself on my arm, then they couldn't say no, right? Both of us would be royalty! You know she's fifth in line for the throne..."

"You pig! You fool! You bastard! I hate you!" Delia shrieking, jumping off the bed and seizing the nearest object (a candleholder) she chucked it at him.

He stopped with his Gift and looked at her in shock, "I'm the fool? You're the one who's being a fool!"

"You promised me I'd be Queen!" she cried out, tears stinging her eyes. She was more hurt that he'd ever think of being with anyone other than her.

"But you will! You will! But, first, Alanna must be Queen," he tried to soothe her.

"If she's Queen first, she'll be your wife first, she'll be mother to your children first," Delia snarled, bitterly.

"Well, that's a given," Roger placided, coldly.

"You know what else is a given?" Delia spat, throwing words at him to hurt him like he was hurting her, "That she'll never love you! She's in love with Alan of Trebond! She practically admitted it today at stitchery! She even fancies Jonathan more than you!"

"Alan of Trebond?" Roger said, looking surprised, confused, and, to Delia's great pleasure, bothered, "You lie."

"Yeah right! You better stop this bethrothal thing right now or I'm out this door this instant!" Delia threatened, getting frantic.

In her rush of jealously and love for him she hadn't ever considered that maybe he didn't love _her. _

"Walk out then," Roger said, dryly, "See if I care."

Delia looked as if all the wind had been knocked out of her. She breathed in, deeply, trying to hide her stupefied nature. He couldn't be serious...They loved each other! They would one day reign as King and Queen together, wouldn't they? One look at his expressionless face told her otherwise. Sucking up tears, she stalked out of his rooms. Once out she cried her heart out. She was lucky it wasn't a very popular hallway and no one came round.

What had she done? What had she done? She'd just ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I didn't really want to end it there but oh well. I didn't have the time nor the space. So just leave it as is. Oh and I really really dislike Delia so ignore this if it's really showing her in a sympathetic light near the end. It won't always include Delia sob stories. This may be the only one. Next chapter, Alanna returns to becoming a squire/noble lady and hears her friends points of views on 'Alanna of Conte.' Oh, and an announcement by Duke Gareth leaves her in another tricky situation. Read and review! Thanks! 

**winky-wink**


	9. Insanity

**Disclaimer: **A few characters, major and minor are mine. Same with most of the plot. Although Lady Catherine is a creation of Tamora Pierce, as is everything else.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Jonathan

**Musical Affection: **'Bad Day' by _Daniel Powter._

**Author's Note: WitchyMage: **Thanks and, believe me, cousin on cousin really irks me too. My dislike of it hasn't been as poignant in previous chapters but it shines through in this one. Families shouldn't have marriage within them in my opinion. Anyways, thanks for reviewing.

**Kokari: **I'll try. I'll try. I'm glad that I got you hooked.

**epobbp: **Yeah, I feel bad for her too. Too bad it gets even more messed up for her in this chapter.

**Padme Amidala2121: **Thanks so much. That's really sweet. And, yeah, Helena did totally deserve that. I liked that part too, haha.

Ok things get pretty interesting in this chapter so I hope you like it. And I also hope you review it.

* * *

'_Insanity: a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world_'-R.D. Laing

* * *

Alanna carefully poured a spoonful of purple liquid. Holding it, gently, she squeezed the cork back on the vial with one hand, which, she thought, was a great accomplishment. Steadying the teaspoon of potion in front of her, she looked at it, fake blue eyes gleaming. Without another hesitation she brought it to her mouth and swallowed, swiftly. She went to the mirror and watched as her hair shortened and got redder and redder. The blue in her eyes deepened to violet and once again, she was Alan of Trebond. With make-up that is. She frowned and went to the stone basin to wash it off her face. She rubbed thoroughly, not wanting to be embarrassed again. Last time she'd had make-up on, Geoffery'd noticed. Finally, after a good five-minute scrubbing she decided she was fine enough. 

Since she was still in 'Alanna of Conte's' rooms, she had to go to a hidden panel in the wall to find the squire's attire, all in Conte colors, left there for her via Lady Winfred via Jonathan via a very suspicious servingmaid. She snatched it out and changed, quickly. It was early in the morning and, if she was lucky, no one would catch her leaving these chambers. She tossed the gown she was wearing on the bed and didn't even bother to check herself over in the mirror before tiptoeing out the door.

Praise be to the Great Mother Goddess! Not a soul had seen her leave the chambers or even the visiting noble's quarters. Apparently, no nobility rose with the sun. However, in the squire's and page's part of the palace, everyone was very much awake. The lively atmosphere lifted the downcast mood Alanna had been in for the past two days.

On her way to breakfast, she met up with her greatest companion. Her cat, Faithful. He studied her with a sort of stubborn adoration.

'_You're having simply the most astounding identity crisis,_' he purred, brushing against her ankles.

She picked him up and looked straight into his amethyst eyes and growled, "I am _not _having an identity crisis! It's just...a bit messy right now."

'_Think what you want_,' Faithful sniffed, 'I _still say you have an identity crisis_.'

She went to the Mess Hall and found her usual set of friends already there, indulging in the food, heartily. Gary caught sight of her first and barked something to the rest of them. They all turned and looked at her, smiling brightly.

"Alan!" Geoffery cried, running towards her, "Where've you been? You missed everything!"

He grabbed her arm and began pulling her along by it so they could get to the table faster. She grinned at him-at them all, really-glad to be back. It made her forget about the troubles with Lady Catherine, Helena, Delia, and Roger for a few precious moments.

"Everything?" Alanna teased, "_Everything _happened while I was sick?"

"If you consider the arrival of Lady Alanna everything," Douglass voiced, smiling at his friend. He patted Alanna on the back as a welcome. She smiled back.

"Which he does," Raoul interjected, grinning from ear to ear, "Don't you, Alan?"

"Of course," Alanna replied, "Where's Jon?"

"Here," came a voice from behind them, "I've missed you, squire."

He ruffled her hair as he'd done so many times before but Alanna was more aware of his touch than ever before. No matter what did or, more likely, didn't happen between her and Jon, something had changed. That night at the ball, they weren't just squire and Knightmaster. They were something so much more special. And it frightened Alanna to all ends.

"I know someone who's missed you more," Gary said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "Alanna for instance."

Alanna smiled, but it was waning. Is that all they wanted to talk about? Alanna of Conte? What about swordplay? Now _that _was interesting.

"Oh?" Alanna raised an eyebrow, "You've all met her, have you?"

"Yes," they all chorused together.

"And what did you think?" Alanna asked with genuine interest. Truthfully, she wanted to know what they thought about her more feminine counterpart.

"You're wrong when you said she was tolerable," Geoffery said with a frown.

Alanna tried not to look upset, more so indignant, "Yeah?"

"Don't look so offended!" Geoffery laughed, "I was going to say she isn't tolerable. She's rather pretty actually."

Her features softened, "You think so?"

Jonathan joined in, "Yes. They've been talking about your Alanna all this time. Waiting for the time when you'd awake so they could witness your magical reunion with her."

"Tis true," Gary added.

Alanna made a face. A magical reunion between Alan and Alanna? Mithros, how could they make that happen? She couldn't be at two places at once! Especially when both places required both of her to be together!

But she put on a show for her friends, "I'm sorry to say we've already met."

They all looked disappointed. Raoul piped up first, "Well, she's very nice, that one. Funny too. You've got something good with her."

"Very good," Douglass agreed, "She seems like she's able to hold intelligent conversation. Unlike most of the noble ladies here."

"Yeah?" Alanna was _very _flattered that they thought this of her! Even though it wasn't really her...or was it?

'_This is all really confusing_,' Alanna thought with dark humor.

'_All these compliments are going to go to your head_,' Faithful warned, rubbing his face into her shoulder. She gave him a dirty look.

Gary snorted, "Like Lady Roxanne. Dim as a wax candle."

"Lady Roxanne is actually very sweet," Alanna defended her new friend to her surprise and the surprise of all her friends.

"You really _were _sick, weren't you?" Geoffery questioned, eyes wide, "Because I remember very well that just last week you made a joke of her along with the rest of us."

"Opinions change," Alanna replied, briskly, trying to brush the awkward moment away, "Anyways, she's been nice to Alanna, that's all that matters to me."

The others nodded, finding these answers reasonable. They soon bored of Alanna, to the great relief of Alanna, herself, and soon moved on to chatter about their own love lives. Alanna listened raptly, now intensely more interested because she knew most of the ladies they were courting.

"And I danced with Lady Delia _twice_," Gary said, smugly.

"And I danced with Lady Delia _twice_," Raoul mimicked him, then laughed. Everyone else laughed along with him as Gary scowled.

"You're just jealous," he turned up his nose. Raoul snorted.

"Have you ever considered...any of the other ladies at court, Gary?" Alanna ventured, hoping to attract her friend's attention to another beautiful lady of court.

"Like not Delia?" Gary implored, face scrunched up in confusion.

'_Idiot_,' if cats could roll their eyes, that's exactly what Faithful would've done.

"Like yes," Alanna, however, was very much human so she really rolled her eyes, "I'm talking about-well you know-ladies like Cythera for instance."

She caught Raoul's eye and he said, the corners of his mouth twitching, "You've noticed it, haven't you?"

"What? You mean how she-?" she let the sentence hang.

He nodded and they both grinned. The others looked between them and Jonathan said, "What _are _you two talking about?"

Alanna smirked, "Nothing at all. Now, back to you, Gary. What think you of Cythera?"

"She's beautiful," Gary started, slowly, face still stupefied by the question, "And, um, I don't know much else about her."

"If you tried to learn more about her you may grow fond of her," Alanna said, thinking she could be no more obvious in her hinting.

"Even if he did, what are the chances of someone like Cythera-," Geoffery said, eyes laughing, merrily, "Growing fond of someone like my Knightmaster over here."

"Hey! Watch what you say. I can make your life very excruciating if I choose," Gary threatened.

Alanna sighed and then stopped herself short of sounding like Etta. Gary was a hopeless case. His attention could not be held for very long in one direction, especially not in his boisterous youth.

"At least you tried," Douglass whispered in her ear, "Raoul and I have been trying to get him to notice her and forget Delia for weeks."

* * *

Classes went by in the usual hum drum fashion. Alanna got extra homework in each class to make up for lessons missed because she had been away for three whole days. The only professor who looked glad to see her was Sir Myles, who went so far as to give her a brief hug before continuing on with her lesson. She even managed to squeeze in a quick swordfight with Geoffery. Though she was slightly rusty from not practicing, she still beat him with an elegant swiftness. It was in Roger's class that things really took a turn for the worse. 

Douglass and Alanna went to his classroom together (Geoffery did not have the Gift). They were both flustered from a hard day's work and were pleased to have a rather relaxing and usually straightforward class right before lunch. The classroom was filled with only seven other students who had the Gift. Alanna and her friend settled into their typical seats at the back of the class. It was a good spot. One where she wouldn't draw too much of Roger's attention. Faithful slipped into her book bag to take a nap and Alanna felt all the more better knowing he was by her side even if he was in slumber.

"Today we will be talking about a very interesting spell that many a powerful mage as used to lift the dead from the grave...," Roger began.

The lesson started and continued as usual. The overall topic was very interesting but Alanna thought it was always ruined for her by Roger being the one to say it because she shot her occasional uncomfortable glares. However, many voiced an opinion on what they thought of this spell. Some thought it good if you were selective about who you raised from the dead. Some just thought it wrong because it wasn't the law of Black God for mortals to undo his work.

However normal the actual lesson went, the ending was far from 'normal.' As the bell rang for lunch, the students rushed to pour out of the room, happy for a quick break. Alanna and Douglass dawdled behind, waiting for the rest of them to leave so they could take their own sweet time. It seemed to be a bad idea because Roger noticed them.

"Alan of Trebond," he called from his place at the front of his room, at his desk, "Please stay behind a few minutes. It'll be quick I swear."

Alanna felt extremely nervous but did her best to hide it. If she learned anything, it was that revealing your true feelings to Roger was never a good idea. Douglass hesitated, wondering if he should go.

"Go on, Veldine," Roger advised, "Alan will be out with you in a matter of minutes. I won't hold him long at his lunch hour."

He smiled at Alanna but she wasn't fooled by it one bit. The Conte Duke and the Lioness both despised each other with a passion. During the Tusaine War, they had settled this mutual loathing.

After Douglass left, Alanna's nervous meter went up by a few more notches. Roger stood there, staring at her with a sneer. They both listened as Douglass' footsteps faded. When there was silence, he spoke.

"Come here, Alan," he ordered, "I must discuss a very serious matter with you."

Alanna raised a defiant eyebrow but obeyed his command. Maybe if she cooperated, he'd let her go easy.

"Sit," he gestured towards the chair across from him once she'd gotten closer.

Alanna did so and watched Roger as he clasped his hands together and placed them to his lips. He lifted them a moment later, wagging them, knowingly.

"You and I have many things in common, Alan. You do know that, don't you?" he said, eyeing his opponent.

"Yes sir," Alanna lied between her teeth. He could never have been more wrong.

"Apparently we also have the same taste in women," he continued, "You know my cousin, Alanna, do you not?"

She gulped. She wished more than ever that she could just shrivel up and fall into a black hole right now. How humiliating! How awkward! If the Black God ever wanted to take her, he could take her now!

"Yes," she answered, her voice a monotone.

"I...care for my cousin very much, squire," Roger spoke, choosing his words carefully, "Tell me now, do you or do you not have a relationship with her?"

"Define relationship, Your Grace," Alanna said, quietly, trying to evade the question.

"You know what I mean. Are you courting her or not?" Roger demanded.

"No...," Alanna trailed off. She had a feeling this would come back to bit her in the rear.

"I can tell if you're lying, Trebond," Roger told her, seriously, "So do not try it with me."

"Yes, Your Grace," Alanna answered, politely.

Roger regarded her with a snarl, "I can see you're not about to talk. You're too clever for your own good. But be sure to heed my words. If I see you with Lady Alanna again, you shall be punished for it. I carry a special affection for her and do not wish to see her hurt."

"If I may, Your Grace," Alanna interrupted, trying to turn him off Alanna of Conte, "Isn't she your cousin? And, therefore, isn't your special affection entirely inappropriate?"

Roger reddened, "There have been cases of this nature before!"

Alanna tried to stay calmeven though her heart was thundering in her chest. Apparently, she'd hit a sour spot. Had he forgotten that Winfred's daughter and himself were cousins? His marriage would never meet the King's approval, neither would it meet Lady Winfred's approval.

'_And_,' Alanna decided, '_If this Abigail has any sense, it won't meet her's either_.'

"Of course, Your Grace," Alanna bit back, palms sweaty. Her head was starting to hurt again...

Roger glared at her. It was odd to think that only last night he had stared at her, thinking she was to be his new bride. Oh, all the difference a simple potion could make. Alanna broke his gaze, afraid that he might recognize her.

"You're dismissed," he said, finally, with a wave of his hand.

Alanna wasted no time in leaving and was out of the classroom and was on her way to the Mess Hall in a matter of seconds. She felt Faithful stir in her book bag and pulled him out. He still looked drowsy, which Alanna was thankful for. It would stop him for making any snarky comments. She brought him to her chest and cradled him there to comfort herself.

* * *

Lunch consisted solely of Alanna, Jonathan, Geoffery and Gary. Both Douglass and Raoul were away on an errand. It seemed more and more often that Raoul would rush off to help the various companies of the King's Own fight off bandits. However, each time he returned he was always very angry. 

"We could've _done_ more than we did!" he'd grumble, "It's like they only go to fight off the bandits just to show the commoners that they exist!"

Alanna agreed that it was a sorrowful thing but she didn't have much time to be aggrieved over it today because a different kind of sorrow came her way. She ate her mashed potatoes, half-heartedly, still disturbed by her conversation with Roger. The others caught on and didn't bother her much. Everyone was beginning to wear heavier clothing because the first frost had come already. Midwinter Festival was drawing ever near. Alanna sighed, wondering how good her festival experience was to be this year...would she have to masquerade as Alanna of Conte for it? She also realized that she needed to get out and buy gifts for all her friends before time ran out. And it was a good excuse to go and visit George too. She missed the King of Thieves as much as she had her other friends.

A half hour to one, lunch came to an end. Just as the pages and squires began to stand for their leave, Duke Gareth stood at his seat at the front table. He signalled with his hands for them all to pause for a minute or two. They all sat and he gave them a stern look with a faint hint of a smile.

"I have talked to the King," he began, Alanna shot a look at Jon, who looked nonchalant, "And he has informed me that for the upcoming Midwinter Festival Celebrations, we are to have a host of guests from Carthak aside from the ambassador and his wife. This is including their heir to the throne, Prince Ozorne."

A light buzz swept through the crowds of young men as everyone started to murmur at once. More Carthaks? Their heir to the throne?

"Carthaks again!" Geoffery hissed, disliking them more than ever, "Midwinter Festival is ruined!"

"As long as their Prince doesn't come to knock on my doorstep, I'm fine," Gary said, gravely, "Did you know of this Jonathan?"

The Prince in question shrugged, "Not in great detail. But I suppose I'll have to befriend this Ozorne, won't I? It'll be a worthy alliance for Tortall one day."

Geoffery snorted and Alanna posed a question, trying to brush away the sickness she felt at the thought that Jon was already thinking of the day he would rule Tortall, "Is he even remotely close to your age?"

Jon nodded, "Just two years younger."

"May I please call for silence," Duke Gareth's voice thundered throughout the room so commandingly that it shut everyone up, instantly, "Now, you must be wondering why I'm delving this information to you. Well, young men of Tortall, it has been decided that all squires will be required to attend a ball in the honor of Prince Ozorne as a sign of goodwill. The Carthaki Prince is young and wishes to find companions of his own age, not the usual older Lords and Dukes he comes across all the time. Even our pages are welcome to this ball, though it is not mandatory for them. No one need serve at this ball either since the King is hiring special servingmen and women."

Cheers went up from the hoards of pages and squires. Everyone but Alanna looked overjoyed. Gary and Geoffery nudged each other and even Jonathan leaned forward, listening more carefully.

"As another requirement, each squire is obligated to take classes in dance starting next week to the day of the ball in question so that they may participate in a performance for the entire court with Prince Ozorne. It is his wish that this happen. We are needed to please him, since he will soon be ruler of a country, neighbouring our own, one day," Duke Gareth stiffened, this prospect was obviously not to his liking, "Each squire is also required to bring an escort with them to the dance. This escort must also accompany you to your dance lessons. You have little over a week to find your escort. The young ladies of the court have been notified of this occurrence and expect your requests."

Geoffery punched Alanna's shoulder and grinned at her. She knew what he was thinking. That _she _would go with Alanna of Conte. She glanced at Jonathan and he held her gaze. They both knew this meant even more problems for Alanna to come. Their thoughts were interrupted by Duke Gareth once again.

"Though the Crown has stated this ball is mandatory for all squires, do not think I will accept any foolhardy behavior from any of you. Should anyone misbehave in the coming days, you will be exempted from the Midwinter Festivities," he said, looking at them all, eyes narrowed. His stare landed on his own son, even though he was not even a squire, "Now you may return to your usual classes. Good day."

He stepped out from behind his table and left he Mess Hall. Chatter erupted like lightning. There was hardly a face in the room that wasn't flushed with eagerness and excitement. Alanna closed her eyes and dared to open them again.

"This is great!" Geoffery cried, "I can't wait to talk to Yuna about this. Imagine, Carthaks actually causing something good to pass!"

"You think Delia'll go with me?" Gary ventured, eyes glazed over, "Or do you think of one these rotten squires will ask her before me?"

Alanna made a face, "I don't know. But I bet Cythera will go with you."

"Huh?" Gary broke out of his stupor, completely ignorant of what she'd just said, "So, Jon, who're you taking?"

"There's someone I _want _to take but they're already going with someone else," he admitted, "Maybe I'll ask your cousin, Alan. She seems nice."

"Helena?" Alanna cried out, "Nice? She's a complete terror!"

Gary's mouth was agape at her outburst. He closed it then said, "She seemed sweet at our brunch."

"What brunch?" Alanna demanded, remembering this particular brunch from yesterday. She tried to keep the envy out of her voice.

"We had a short meal with her and her mother yesterday," Jonathan was quick to explain, "They invited us so we said yes. I didn't think you'd mind."

Alanna glared at him. He didn't think she'd _mind_? Even after she'd confessed she hated them with a passion when she'd learned of their arrival?

"Yeah, whatever," she muttered, coldly.

"Cheer up," Geoffery said, grinning cheekily, "We've all got someone. Well, 'cept Gary. He's got no one. But who really cares about him? Aren't you happy that you get to show off Alanna to everyone whilst she's on your arm?"

"Oh huzzah," she said, sarcastically, trying not to sound bitter at the thought of Jonathan and Helena dancing together.

* * *

The evening was darkening and Alanna rode out of the palace with Moonlight trotting at a comfortable, speedy pace. Her hair whipped out behind her. Though it was not half so long as Alanna of Conte's, it still managed to flutter when it caught wind. The city of Corus was glittering down below. It felt good to be down here and away from the hubla of the palace, where the only thing on everyone's tongue was, of what some were now calling, Prince Ozorne's Great Ball. 

The Dancing Dove was coming into sight, it's sign creaking against the wind that night. Alanna shivered, happily, upon viewing it and huddled into her cloak. She stored Moonlight away and went in through a side door that very few people knew about. She came out into the main room of the Dove from a dark corridor and immediately spotted a few of her closest friends there.

"Good evening Solom, Rispah," she nodded to them and Solom raised a glass of beer to her as Rispah curtsied, prettily, "Seen George?"

"Over yonder," Rispah jutted her chin towards a table at a corner, "Dealin' with some trader from up north."

Alanna bobbed her head and slinked through the rowdy crowd to the table where the Rogue sat. His brown hair was unruly and messy as usual. It was like a jungle. Alanna bet not even a comb could get through it. She wondered if her fingers could. No, probably not. But her fingers could most certainly go through her Knightmaster's straight black hair that was almost always sleek and neat. Her heart did an unsettling flip at the thought of him. She frowned, wondering if he could possibly he asking Helena to be his escort to the ball even now.

She was promptly distracted as George gave her a toothy grin that she had come to adore, "Well look who it is! Shall we talk out here or in there?"

"In there," Alanna said, knowing she had many important things to tell George that were best said in private.

"Excuse me," he told the shady looking man at the table with him, "Duty calls."

He flung a protective arm around Alanna's shoulder and she had the great urge to shrug it off. It was nerve wracking to guess what George was thinking but one guess said that it was something to do with love. She really didn't want to lead him on...

He led her to a room which was unnecessary since she'd been in here so many times that she knew how to get there all on her own. He sat in a chair at the head of an abandoned table and gestured for her to sit across from him. She did, accordingly.

"Can't say I'm not surprised t'see yeh," George commented, watching her pick at a scab by her elbow.

She left it alone and said, "Why's that?"

"Well, accordin' to me sources, yeh've got yer hands quite full up at that palace," he chuckled, "Alanna of _Conte?_"

"Hush," she scolded him but couldn't help but giggle, slightly, at the absurdity of it all.

"Well, Ma says she even got yeh a potion. This true?" he asked, his eyebrow raised, a grin still firmly in place.

Alanna nodded, "It's all so confusing, I know."

"Confusin'? Only that's confusin' is why yer alter ego is Alanna of Conte," he said, waiting for her to explain.

She blushed, deeply, "It was a silly mistake. It was the first name that came out of my mouth."

George looked exactly as Jonathan had looked. Disbelieving. As if he knew there was something more to the story than that. Fortunately, he, like Jonathan, didn't pursue the topic with vigour.

"So," he went on, after a while, "D'yeh need me for anythin'? Is that why yer here?"

"No," Alanna replied, caught off guard by his question, "I just came to visit."

"And...," she added, sourly, "I needed someone to talk to."

"A course yeh did," George grumbled, bitterly.

Alanna was getting impatient with his out of sorts behavior, "George Cooper! What is the _matter _with you?"

"Nothin'. Can't good ole George be allowed one day of misery?" he demanded, sounding upset and frustrated and all those horrible feelings. It confused Alanna.

"Yes but-," she paused, not knowing where to go. But what?

'_But you're never mad!_' she thought, desperately, '_But I need you right now!_'

She mentally reprimanded herself for sounding so selfish. She took a deep breath and said, "Never mind the but. Why don't _you_ tell _me_ what's wrong for a change?"

He looked at her, looking even more annoyed that she hadn't burst with complains and whining. After a while he gave a hollow laugh. "I'll never quite understand you."

"And I'll never quite understand you," Alanna said with a small smile.

He shook his head, "Sorry 'bout that. Yeh go on. Tell me what's wrong."

Alanna took a deep breath, ready to release a string of problems, "What's not wrong? Firstly, there's this stupid ball-"

"Prince Ozorne's Great Ball," George corrected with a sly smile, "So I heard."

The Lioness rolled her eyes, "Yes, that. Well it requires that all squires take an escort with them so we can perform a group dance with Prince Ozorne and everyone expects me to take Alanna of Conte!"

Silence followed and Alanna looked at George, waiting for him to give her a miracle. Waiting for him to fix all her problems.

Instead he said, "I dun see what the problem is."

"You don't see what the problem is!" Alanna huffed, "Problem is that I can't be both people at once! I can't escort myself to the ball!"

"You dun have to," George replied, wisely, sounding too much like Lady Winfred for Alanna's liking.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she inquired, suddenly curious. George didn't just say things. He always meant something.

"It means that yeh cen go to the ball all lovely as Alanna of Conten' someone else can go as Alan of Trebond," George explained, folding his hands together smugly.

"Like who?" Alanna implored, her eyebrows flyways into her bangs at his suggestion.

"How 'bout someone that looks exactly like you?" George suggested, smiling broadly from ear to ear.

Alanna gasped, "You don't mean-_Thom?_"

"The one and only," George nodded, leaning back on his chair.

"He'd never agree!" Alanna argued, "He'd rather kiss a pig than be a squire even if it is for just one night!"

"You never know until you try," George pointed out, "Why don't you write to him? He owes you a few favors."

"I-I-this is preposterous!" Alanna spluttered, trying to put her words together.

George didn't seem to be listening. Instead he stood and fetched a quill and scroll from the top of a shelf nearby. Alanna was still spluttering while he was forcing the quill into her hand, "I can't ask him this! He'll blow this top! He'll-"

"Shhh," George instructed, "Write."

Still half in shock Alanna began to write her letter to Thom. She didn't know quite what to say so she had to restart her letter about four times before she wrote something she was not fully ashamed of.

_Dear Thom,_

_I know it's been a while since I've written but what better time than the present? Truth is, I'm in trouble, Thom. It concernsour smiling friend if you catch my drift. But it isn't only him. I've been slow to tell you that Aunt Catherine and dear cousin Helena are also involved. They've come to stay at court and make my life increasingly difficult. They threaten to reveal my 'secret' to Duke Gareth and even the King himself. It nerves me to all ends. But ignoring all this, I've got a huge request to ask of you. A ball is coming up. I'm sure you know about it by now as Prince Ozorne's Great Ball. Well, you see dear brother, each squire is required to bring an escort to the ball so that we may perform a short dance to the entire court as ordained by Prince Ozorne himself. I am not to be spared this shame either. Problem is, I've gotten myself into a pickle, masquerading as my own lover! I don't quite know how to explain in such few words but I need to escort myself to the dance. To do that, I must be the lady but I still need my Alan. And...my only option is you, Thom. If you could please please please dress up as Alan of Trebond, if not for just a day, I would love you to all ends! I need you now Thom, more than I ever did. I don't know what I'll do if you don't agree to this. And you owe me anyways. What with you giving me a book for my last Midwinter Festival present and I getting you a black opal! And that time when Maude was going to-_it was here George took Alanna's quill away from her and suggested she finish the letter off- _anyways, as I was saying, I need you. I need my twin._

_Love, _

_Your impatient sister, Alanna_

"I'll get it to him as quickly as I can," George assured her, as Alanna went to leave that night.

"Thank you George," Alanna gave him a brief hug and pulled away because he'd sunk into it all too quickly, "Good night."

* * *

"Where did you say I was all today?" Alanna asked Lady Winfred as she lay spread-eagle on 'Alanna of Conte's' bed. She raised her head, slightly, to take a good look at her fake mother. She was sitting at a table not too far off. Alanna couldn't see her face because she was facing the window but she had a suspecting feeling that she was probably frowning. 

"I said you were off to market all day," Winfred replied, her voice not giving away any clue as to how she was feeling, "No one suspected a thing."

Alanna lay her head back against the bed, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling before her. She really didn't know why she'd come here right now. Maybe it was to find out what the latest news was on her claimed engagement to Roger-maybe it was to visit Winfred, herself. Suddenly she felt stupid for coming when she wasn't needed. In fact, the one place where she was needed was probably in her own rooms, waiting for a command from her Knightmaster. The Lioness sighed and brushed her face against the velvety coverlet that was spread over the bed.

"Did you get any word from your husband?" Alanna demanded, "Any signification about this betrothal to Roger or anything?"

"I've gotten no word from any source that I can trust," was the reply, "And don't you go worrying your head about it, prettyness."

They both sounded apprehensive and neither was saying what they really wanted to.

"What word _have _you gotten?" Alanna questioned, coming up and resting her weight on her elbow.

Before Winfred could say anything, a knock came at the door. Without a word, the royal Aunt went to the door, her gowns rustling softly. Alanna sat up, straight, and came forward to dangle her feet over the bed. She knew she ought to hide since this could be anyone. Roger, even! And seeing Alan of Trebond here would not do, especially in way of rumors.

However, she needn't worry because it was messenger that Alanna recognized as being one of George's men. He bowed, clumsily to Lady Winfred and gave Alanna a sloppy grin.

"My lady, young master," he nodded, his voice sounding slurred with rum, "I have a letter from Lord Cobalt of Rigton and Eastern Scanra. All our men were sent as quickly as they could. The ink may even still be wet."

He held out the letter and Lady Winfred took it from him, thanking him in turn. Without even waiting for a "You're welcome," in response she shut the door in his face and went to the table to read the letter. Alanna got up from the bed and followed her there, anticipation high. Perhaps Lord Cobalt would clear everything up. Perhaps all this betrothal trash really was a rumor. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

Annoyingly, Winfred angled herself so that Alanna could in no way read over her shoulder or any such thing. Her eyes slid from side to side, following the progress of the letter. She tried not to give any inclination of good or bad, but by the way she bit her lip, Alanna could tell that the news was not to be too good. Lady Winfred's facehad gotten less and less expressionless and more and more fiery as she read on. When she finally looked up from the letter, her face was blazing with rage.

"I can't believe that man!" she cried out, standing up, angrily, "He actually _does _want our daughter to marry Roger! My Abigail can't marry her own cousin! He claims this has been in the works for months! No wonder he was so encouraging for me to come to Tortall again! He wanted to have me stay here and ship her out later on! Says she's already in southern Scanra, waiting for word for when she can visit me. Visit me, he says! He makes it to sound like a trip to her and she not knowing she may have to stay the rest of her life! Can you believe this? The nerve of that man!"

Alanna listened to her rant, her own face scrunched up in terror. Although Winfred saw it as a majorly horrible thing for her daughter, Alanna saw it more as a majorly horrible thing for herself. Abigail could escape this still-Alanna could not.

"Can't you stop him? Don't you have a say in this?" Alanna asked, her tone desperate.

"I most certainly do! Do not fret, Alanna. This discussion is far from over," Winfred huffed, face flushed, "No daughter of mine will marry within her own blood. Do you know the results of such affairs? Why, look at the Rittevon household in the Copper Isles for example! No one is going to tarnish the Conte name in this way."

"But _why _is he doing this? Why to his own daughter?" Alanna exclaimed, feeling frustrated.

Lady Winfred looked at Alanna and managed to flash her a sad smile, "Didn't I tell you I married him to spite my father, King Jasson, and my brother? I revelled in the fact that I had married a horrible man right under their noses. I thought I was being clever-little did I know that I was the one that was going to feel the sting of my decisions. My husband is easily entranced by wealth and power, both of which I know Roger can give him. Though why Roger wants my daughter I cannot know."

Alanna choked back her anguish, "So what're we going to do?"

As if this said it all, Winfred sat down at her desk and began scribbling away on a new sheet of parchment, furiously. Alanna faltered in her steps and plopped down on the bed, looking on helplessly. She might as well run for it now while she could. No, actually, she could stay. What else could go wrong? She had three personalities; one that was practically married to Roger, another that was being harrassed by him because he (and all her friends) thought she was in love with her other alter ego, and her last person was just confused about who she was! Jonathan was probably going to take Helena to the ball and she was probably going to be going with her own brother! That is, if Thom even agreed to get involved in all this. She fought down a half wild laugh. It seemed the only sane thing to do amongst all this insanity.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Deedee...I don't know what you might think of this chapter...but anyways next chapter will be much more interesting. New people will be added to the chapter and yes-fun stuff. So anyways, umm...I hope you review 'cause I love feedback. 

**winky-wink**


	10. In which Thom becomes Alanna

**Disclaimer: **A few characters, major and minor are mine. Same with the plot, except the idea of Lady Catherine trying to marry Lord Alan is Tamora Pierce's. Everything else belongs to Tamora Pierce too.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Jonathan

**Musical Affection: **'The Whisper Song' by _The Ying Yang Twins._

**Author's Note: epobbp: **Don't worry. I promise you'll get your confusingness.

**Tortall Princess: **Thanks, I'm glad you like it. And you liked Delia's scene too? Way awesome.

**Confusedknight: **I don't know. I hope it doesn't suddenly start sucking like other stories lol. And, yeah...I'll be sure not to make them kiss. I couldn't handle that haha. Anyways, I _do _love the idea of Thom and Alanna together at a ball too!

**FanFictionFanthom: **I like your pen name. It's cool. Anyways, haha, thanks for the review. I totally agree with you that there are like few good A/J fics out there! I've read like two actually good ones. Most of them are OOC. And thanks for saying mine is one of the better ones. So, yeah, the story is a lot like Ella Enchanted in it's way. I never realized it before...

**WitchyMage: **I love getting people curious. It's like my fettish lol. Anyways, yeah Thom is studying in the City of Gods. I'm not really sure if he needs a very serious excuse, don't most people there, like, hate him?

**okaliedokalie: **Thanks for the compliments and adivse too. Hmm...you got me thinking...but I'm not hundred percent how I could change it but I'll definitely think on it.

**Lutefa: **Multi-tasking I see. Well, anyways, I shall continue.

**Padme Amidala2121: **Yeah, I know. I love the fact that Thom is slowly getting pulled into this.

**Kokari: **Ok, haha. I'm glad it interested you.

**alana: **Really? You think it fits? Thanks a lot. And I really love getting people hooked.

Reviews equal very happy author. Very author equals faster updates, at least I hope so.

* * *

'_This excitement is like a forest fire-you can smell it, taste it, and see it from a mile away_'-Denis Waitley

* * *

"Who're you taking to the ball?" 

"Do you suppose Delia'll go with me if I ask her?"

"You think we need to get new breeches for this?"

"Any idea what this "perfomance" actually needs us to do?"

Questions shot around everywhere as everyone became more and more excited about the ball. The squires were the worst of the lot, since they were to be a part of the main attraction this year-this unknown dance they were to do in front of all the Tortallan court, a few Scanrans that came along with Lady Winfred and the Carthaks, of course. Some were nervous but most were energetic about what was to come. Alanna fell into the former category, getting twitchy and annoyed whenever anyone talked about 'Prince Ozorne's Great Ball.'

"What's so great about some stupid ball anyways?" she demanded, one day, her temper running particularly short.

"Oh, come on, Alan," Geoffery said, patting her back, "Even for someone like you, this has to be the teensiest bit exciting. We get to be the center ofattention of the entire court for a few special moments when usually we're tossed about like a dirty rag! And you've really got nothing to worry about. You've got Alanna as your escort; you'll learn the dance soon and life's good, isn't it?"

Alanna hated the fact that Geoffery was so happyand optimisticabout the upcoming ball and she was not. In fact, he was more eager than anyone else. However, even Douglass showed unusual signs of happiness.

"It is," he grinned, even now, "Did I tell you guys that Isabelle agreed to be my partner?"

"Good on you," Alanna congratulated him.

She didn't really think all this escort business was a big deal. The young noble ladies of the court were practically begging to be asked to be taken to the ball by any pathetic squire that came their way. They all wanted to be center of attention and that meant snagging a handsome squire so that they could partake in the dance with Prince Ozorne.

"I'm taking Yuna," Geoffery admitted, half-heartedly, "I wanted to try my luck with Delia but Yuna looked like she expected me to ask her or something-so I did."

"I believe Yuna is far more superior than Delia," Alanna commented, stiffly, "With or without hairy legs."

"That's easy for you to say," Geoffery grumbled, "I bet _Alanna _doesn't have hairy legs."

The Lioness tried to stop from blushing, "Can we not talk about Alanna's body?"

Her two squire friends gave her an odd look but let it go. So he didn't want to talk about his lover, what did that matter, really? Alan was just weird like that. Luckily, they were distracted from pondering on the subject for much longer because they noticed their Knightmasters rounding the corner. Gary, Raoul and Jon were talking, animatedly, each of their faces vivid with speech.

They saw their squires on the white stone bench in the palace gardens and waved before coming over. They were the only ones on the pathway due to the cold weather. The afternoon was warmer than that of the evening, but not much warmer.

"I'm surprised to see you three out here," Gary said, eyeing them like an elder looked down at an adolescent, "I thought you would be doing today's homework?"

"We _should _be doing today's homework," Geoffery corrected him, "But we're not. Even got Dougy into it."

Gary snorted, "I always did as much of my homework as I could."

"Well, _grandfather_, we're not you, are we?" Geoffery joked, causing the rest of them to grin.

"One of these days...," Gary started then sighed and just gave up. Geoffery was a hopeless case. He knew that because he was just like Gary himself.

Raoul settled down on the bench beside Alanna and nudged her, "So, have you already asked Alanna to the ball?"

She shook her head, "Not quite yet. Have you asked anyone?"

He wrinkled his nose, "God no. I'm not going with anyone yest I have to. My great aunt's in town...and she's always a stickler about marriage. So she may force me to court someone. No. Only people who're taking anybody are Gary and Jonathan."

Alanna felt like something was caught in her throat. The Prince was already taking someone else. He probably hadn't even thought of the last ball and when they'd danced together like she had. She would never admit to anyone that she ever thought that moment had been special to her when it was so clearly not special to him.

"Who're you all taking?" Douglass asked, digging the toe of his shoe into the stone pathway in front of him.

"Delia," Gary grinned, and ran a smug hand through his hair, "She said yes! Can you believe that?"

Geoffery looked horrified, "What's happening to this world? I swear the end is near..."

"Shut you!" Gary snapped, but then quickly returned to smiling.

"She only said yes because Jonathan refused her," Raoul pointed out, "I suggested he keep his dignity by taking Cythera to the ball instead of Jonathan's seconds."

Alanna could never have agreed with her Goldenlake friend more. She also hated Delia more than ever. How would Cythera feel about this? Her best friend going to the ball with the very man she fancied! Delia had no heart-not even for her closest confidante and it sickened Alanna to the bone.

"I choose to ignore what you've just said," Gary turned up his nose and Raoul let out a sigh as he shook his head.

"Who are you escorting to the ball?" Douglass went on, ignoring everyone else, and nodding towards Jonathan.

"Who I told you I was going to take. Alan's cousin, Helena," Jonathan replied, not looking at Alanna. If he did he expected to see her shooting daggers at him. Fortunately, not he nor anyone looked at Alanna and therefore no one noticed the pain streaked expression on her face which she didn't even realize had appear there. The most repulsive tears stung her eyes and she looked up and tried to blink them away as quickly as possible. She couldn't believe she was getting all..._sensitive _over a man! Just because she was in love-she stopped mid-thought and she blinked, surprised, at the choice of her words. She thought love. Did she really love Jonathan? If she did, how much longer would it take to cure this? It couldn't be very much more difficult than curing the Sweating Sickness, could it?

'_Oh, it's much harder to cure than a simple Sweating Sickness_,' Faithful purred, making his awake presence known to Alanna. She frowned at him, wishing he was still asleep in her book bag.

"Lucky you," Geoffery smiled, "She's fair as a rose, that one."

Alanna snorted, then hid it by turning it into a cough. Raoul slapped her back trying to be helpful but his big hands only hurt. She pulled away from the group and made an excuse about needing to go to her room to finish her homework from maths. She didn't want anyone to see lest she made another scene by crying or coughing.

Slapping her shoes against the polished floor of the palace, she began to run to her room. When she reached it she was both surprised and afraid that the door to her chambers were open. She had _gowns _in there! Faithful leaped off her shoulder and scurried in ahead of her. Alanna drew her sword out of it's scabbard and followed him inside. She instantly bumped into the other person inside.

"Oof! Watch where you're going, young lady! And put down that metal stick!"

Alanna stepped back from the figure, "Lady Winfred?"

"Who else?" she snapped back, shutting the door to Alanna's bedchambers, "You know, you could clean up around here once in a while."

The Lioness made a face, "Why're you here?"

Winfred pulled out an envelope from her cloak, "I've received answer from my husband concerning your bethrothal to Roger."

She stopped at the best part as usual so Alanna was forced to ask, "_And?_"

Sometimes Alanna suspected the old bat liked that she had to make her ask.

"And he won't drop back! He insists that Abigail's union with Roger can bring only good tidings," Winfred said, flailing her arms all around, "There's only so far we can argue...and I don't know what to do."

For the first time since Alanna'd met her, Winfred seemed truely lost. Like she hadn't a clue where to go from where she was and it scared the living daylights out of Alanna.

"Don't know what to do...," Alanna repeated, numbly, "What are you saying? That I have to marry Roger?"

"No! No, prettyness. _Abigail _would have to marry Roger," Winfred assured her, "I'm just not quite sure what we'll do about the difference in your looks. She's far taller than you and her hair's far thicker..."

"Thanks for that," Alanna said, bitterly.

"Do I detect a hint at jealously?" Winfred sudddely teased, "Does someone finally want to be a lady?"

Alanna snorted, "Nuh _uh._"

"Enough of this," the royal Aunt instantly became serious once more, "What have you arranged for Prince Ozorne's Great Ball? Who're you going with?"

"Myself," Alanna replied, as if that were the most normal response in the whole world, "Well, not exactly _me_. If everything falls through, I'll be escorted to the ball by my twin brother, Thom, who will be masquerading as me masquerading as Alan of Trebond whilst _I _masquerade as Alanna of Conte."

Lady Winfred blinked, "How did I get caught up in this circus?"

"Better yet, how did _I _get caught up in this circus?" Alanna asked, smiling in spite of herself.

'_You're in love with Jonathan, that's why,_' Faithful joked, leaping onto Alanna's bed causing her to give him a look of pure venom.

* * *

If Jonathan was the most handsome man that Alanna had ever seen, then Prince Ozorne was a close second. A _very_ close second. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His wiry muscles were enough to make him desirable. Yet, he was even more special than that. He was outrageously glamourous and wore outfits that had never been seen on men in Tortall. He even wore face paints around his eyes, adding to his extravagant look. The first time Alanna saw him, he had been dressed in a golden shield with a gold and white cloak draped past his shoulders. Every coil of his raven hair had gold strung into it. Even his sandals shined. No noble in Tortall would dare wear sandals, which had been considered commoner's feet slippers. Until now that is. 

He was greeted by the entire Tortallan court and when he shook hands with Jonathan, Alanna could see a great contrast there between them. North and South. Silver and Gold. Handsome and handsome. She suspected that it was not just one lady who's heart was feeling faint at the moment.

After Ozorne's arrival, classes to teach dance began for squires on schedule. On the first of these days, Alanna (dressed in her female form), Geoffery, Douglass, Yuna, and Isabelle made their way to a hall that was used for minor banquets. The grand tables and flower vases had been drawn away and the dance floor was practically begging for people to move, gracefully, across it.

Alanna was very, very, nervous. She had not had word from Thom yet so she had no clue if he was actually going to show up or not. She had seen no sign of him so she was sure that he'd abandoned her to her misery. Still, Lady Winfred had forced her to come along just in case.

'_I was stupid to put all faith in Thom_,' she mentally scolded herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Geoffery, have you ever tried, you know, running a comb through your hair?" Yuna frowned, looking at the squire that was to be her partner for the dance.

"Comb? What ever is that, dear Yuna?" Geoffery faked confusion.

Yuna slapped his shoulder then shot a sidelong glance to Alanna, "Where's your Alan?"

"I'm not sure," Alanna lied through her teeth, "But he'll be here soon."

She moved, uncomfortably, in her tightly woven black gown. The neckline was higher than most of her other dresses so she ought to be grateful for that. Carly and Lydia had spun her hair into a round bun yet a few strands of stubborn brown red hair had slipped away and softened the sharp edges of Alanna's face.

"Speaking of Alan, I haven't seen him since breakfast," Douglass stated, thoughtfully.

"Think less of Alan and more of me," Isabelle elbowed him on his side.

Squires and noble ladies were pouring into the hall faster than hail from the sky. Alanna hadn't realized there were so many younglings in the palace. Everyone was rumbling with talk and smiling and laughing.

'_That could've been me,_' Alanna sighed, thinking, '_That should've been me_.'

"Order! Order!" Duke Gareth clapped his hands together, "Everyone, please, settle down."

Slowly but surely the chatter died down and soon everyone was silent, eyes on His Grace.

"Today is your first class of dance," Duke Gareth began.

"Are _you _to be teaching us, Your Grace?" a pert squire questioned, rudely, laughing softly.

"Actually," all eyes darted to the door and there stood Ozorne looking just as heavenly as the first time, "I'll be teaching you. Accompanied by my good friend, Ferra, head of the dance department at the University in Carthak. Oh, and I can't forget good old Arram Draper."

He added the last part with obvious humor while gesturing towards a tall, brooding man. He looked a little younger than Alanna, herself, but seemed wise beyond his years. As he swished past her with Ozorne and Ferra, Alanna felt all tingly. The young man was dripping with the Gift.

"I won't be dancing," Arram shook his head, looking at all the Tortallans more disdainfully than anything.

"Nonsense," Ozorne laughed, "Ferra'll get you dancing. Won't you?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the short dance teacher replied, his nose twitching.

"Well, since Your Highness and your friends have arrived, I believe I may make my leave," he nodded to them, respectfully. Then showing he never missed a beat he added, "As for you, Squire Jordan, you may report to me in my office, everynight after dinner for a fortnight for your cheek."

The rude squire hung his head and Alanna smirked. That was Duke Gareth for you. The Duke left the room, leaving all in charge of the Carthaks. Ozorne looked at them all, smiling, brightly. Arram checked his nails for signs of dirt and Ferra just looked apprehensive.

"Alright, I may as well say good morning to all you Tortallan squires and your beautiful ladies. I am, as you already know, Prince Ozorne. You're an impressive bunch, I must say, and if things go well I'll never have to face you on a battlefield," Ozorne laughed at his own joke and a few others joined him, "Now, let's begin. All our young ladies and lads, please pair up."

Douglass and Isabelle and Geoffery and Yuna came together and linked hands. Everyone joined with someone else until the only person left alone was Alanna. She blushed, furiously, as everyone stared at her. Arram Draper raised an eyebrow. Ferra looked even more apprehensive.

Ozorne came over to her, "Alone? Where's your escort?"

Alanna curtsied, trying to get rid of her blush, "I don't know, Your Highness."

"Don't know? Well, that _is_ a problem, isn't it?" he grinned at her as if she were an inferior child, "And a pretty thing like you should be dancing. How about I dance with you till your Lord decides to present himself, is that alright?"

Alanna and everyone else was stunned. Prince Ozorne had just asked her to be his partner and he was only supposed to ask someone radiant and far more better at dancing and performing than her. Like Cythera or Helena or Delia. Not Alanna, for crying out loud! She didn't want to be the center of attention.

However, she knew it would be a no-no to reject him so she said, "Alright? It is an honor to be your dance partner, Your Highness."

He smiled, "Good. And what did you say your name was?"

She hadn't said her name but ignored it, "Alanna of Conte."

"Alanna of _Conte_?" Ozorne blanched, "Mithros, you're the cousin of the heir to the throne! And here you've been 'Your Highness-ing' me! Please, I beg you, from one royal to another, call me Ozorne."

Alanna curtsied once more, knowing it was the proper thing to do. Her eyes scanned the room and knew she'd seen the furious looks of envy on the face of every other noble lady in the room.

'_I'm making so many friends_,' Alanna thought, sarcastically.

Ozorne offered her his arm, but before she had a chance to take it the door to the hall opened once more. In the doorway stood Alan of Trebond or rather _Thom _of Trebond. His face was flushed from rushing and his squires uniform had been thrown on, haphazardly. The Carthaki Prince dropped the arm he'd offered to Alanna and stepped forward.

"Who're you?" Ozorne demanded, trying to analyze everything that Alan-or rather Thom was.

"Alan of-," Thom paused, trying to catch his breath, "-of Trebond, Your Highness."

Alanna pushed past Ozorne in her excitement and with a cry of, "_Alan!_" she leapt into her brother's waiting arms. He faltered as she hugged him, fiercely. She hadn't realized how much she really missed him! It had been forever since they'd seen each other. She remembered a very sober Thom at her father's funeral. This one was more cheerful but not by much. He was still Thom after all.

"Alanna?" he looked her up and down, obviously confused about why her hair and eyes were different colours.

"I'm guessing this is your escort?" Ozorne implored, smiling in amusement, "Well, since that's settled, I can help Ferra teach freely."

She pulled back from Thom and blushed. She'd shown a great deal of public affection which caused many of the other people in the room to look at her in shock. This was the niece to the King, if she didn't know proper manners than who did? Alanna looked down, embarrassed at having shamed herself in front of all these people.

"Hello Alanna. Erm-how are you?" Thom asked, moving uncomfortably in his squire's outfit.

"Great," Alanna grinned, "I thought you weren't going to show up!"

"Young lords, please take your escort by her left hand and place your left hand on her lower back," Ferra instructed as Ozorne spoke, happily, to Arram.

Thom and Alanna came together, brother keeping his hand higher than most other squires did. Thom looked over Alanna's shoulder and a blonde-haired squire winked at him and nodded towards Alanna.

"Well, how could I say no with a letter like that?" Thom demanded, giving her a rare smile, "Masquerading as a noble lady. How unlike you."

"Don't forget Aunt Catherine," Alanna interjected, moving as Thom led her in the dance they were learning. He wasn't the best dancer but he was far better at it than Alanna was herself. Half the nobles were put to one side of the room, boy, girl, boy, girl, with their escorts across from them in the same order, girl, boy, girl, boy. The music would begin and the squires would leave their end of the hall to their partner's side. Clasping hands, the whole procession would take a few melodramatic steps forward, whilst Ozorne walked in the center of it all, clearly enjoying all the attention he was getting. As the sequences got more and more complex, Alanna noticed Ferra, Ozorne and even Arram making more and more suggestions to everyone in the room. It wasn't soon before they were critisizing Alanna and Thom as well.

"I don't want your hand there, young master," Ferra instructed Thom, gesturing towards the young sorcerer's hand that was just beneath Alanna's shoulder bones, "They ought to be lower, it looks far more attractive."

Thom let his hand slide down only about half an inch. Ferra frowned, "She's such a lovely thing and you're afraid to touch her! Come on, now. Just a bit lower."

Alanna saw Douglass and Geoffery exchange amused looks, probably thinking, '_That's our Alan. Stiff around women as always_.'

Thom lowered his hand even more and wouldn't bring it down anymore no matter how hard Ferra protested. Other squires snickered and even though Thom was humiliating the name of Squire Alan, it was exactly the type of thing that Squire Alan, himself,would've done.

The dance class ended and Ozorne's voice boomed across the room as they all began to leave, "I want you all here tomorrow, same time."

Thom snorted, his arm linked with Alanna's, "What a monarch. Did he ever stop to think we all might have _other _things to do?"

"Not all monarchs are bad," Alanna mumbled, thinking about Jonathan.

Her twin looked at her, eyebrows raised, "You're only saying that because you're half a monarch already."

"Am not," Alanna shook her head, "This is all an act, dear brother. It will be over soon."

Actually, the Lioness had no clue whether or not it would be over soon, but it wouldn't do to tell Thom that. He'd only get arrogant and all knowing on her.

"That's not what I was speaking of," Thom replied, his voice taking on a surprisingly teasing tone, "From what I hear you'll be half royal through marriage. To Prince Jonathan, that is."

Alanna's eyes widened and her mouth opened a litte bit, "Who in the world told you that?"

Thom scrunched up this face as if he was still unsure about what he was about to say, "Well, I _think _it was a cat. Said his name was Faithful. But I could be wrong, there was also a servingman in that hallway."

"Faithful!" Alanna spluttered, "I'll see to it that his tail gets a nice yank next time I see him."

"Alan! Alan, where do you think you're going?"

Thom and Alanna turned around, coming apart. Geoffery and Douglass ran up to them, both looking to be off somewhere else. That's when it hit her. She had swordplay, tilting, fencing, and archery this afternoon.

"Um...," Thom trailed off and looked at Alanna for help, "I'm going to-my chambers?"

Geoffery laughed, "Who are you, my good sir, and where's Alan? _To your chambers? _You think we're noble ladies or something where we can lounge about where ever we want whenever we want? We've got fencing class, Alan."

"Fencing?" Thom looked horrified at that very prospect.

"Yes, fool, fencing," Geoffery answered, "Now come on."

Alanna caught Thom's eye and they both shared the same feeling. Dread. Thom because he hated all those knightly things that were required of squires. Alanna because Thom was also lousy at all those knightly things and would shame her beautifully built reputation to all ends. Geoffery tugged Thom's arm and he couldn't protest yest he cause great suspicion.

Douglass bowed to Alanna, "Good day, Alanna."

'_Good day indeed!_' Alanna thought, darkly, '_I have to spend another whole day as Alanna of Conte. What am I going to do?_'

* * *

Another stitchery session, three gossip fests, and one boring dinner later, Alanna returned to her squires chambers, dressed up as Alan of Trebond. To her great relief, Thom was in her room and was also alone. He looked up when she entered, his face pale. 

"I finished your homework," he stated, pointing to her book bag which had been neatly reorganized.

Alanna laughed, "Riiight. No one actually finishes homework. You just do as much as you can."

"I finished it, I tell you. Check," Thom said, giving her a smug smile.

Not one to believe what she hadn't seen or heard by her own eyes and ears, she actually did go and check. It really was done. Alanna looked up from one of her math books, "You are...I don't know what you are. Just unbelievable. And, I'll never hear the end of this, will I?"

"Thanks," Thom mumbled, even though what she said hadn't exactly been a compliment.

"So," Alanna began, daring to ask the unaskable, "How did the afternoon go?"

Thom didn't meet her eyes and said, quietly, "I tripped over my own sword."

The Lioness pulled back with a sharp intake of breath, "You didn't."

"You think I'd lie to you about that?" Thom demanded, flushing beet red.

Alanna shook her head, slapping her forehead. She had thought this couldn't get any worse. But it had. Now her squire's reputation was devastated. Things didn't lift up when the door ajoining her room to Jon's came open. Her Knightmaster stood there, a scone in one hand, obviously a rushed dinner, and a scroll in another.

"Alanna can you take this to-," he stopped as he looked up and saw double, "What the-?"

"Jonathan meet my brother, Thom. Thom, Jon," Alanna introduced them to one another reducing the Prince's confusion, if only slightly.

Thom stood and Jonathan shook his hand, still looking at her twin, dumbfounded. He looked amazingly like Alanna but he held himself differently. He was less relaxed and more scholarly.

"Um," Jon fumbled, looking away from the magical twin, "I don't understand. Why is Thom here?"

He looked back at Thom as if to apologize for his bluntness. The sorcerer shrugged. Bluntness was no stranger to him and his behavior.

"Thom's here to be my escort to the ball. He's going as Alan of Trebond," Alanna explained, "So I can go as Alanna."

"Oh," Jonathan said, but didn't look quite satisfied, "Can I talk to you in my room for a moment, Alanna?"

The two redheaded twins shared a look and Thom nodded for her to follow Jon into his room. She went in, shut the door, and wondered what they had to talk about. She'd already explained the Thom situation and as far as she knew, there was nothing else to discuss. Unless he had some secret, rather important, squire task he wanted her to set out for. She boots practically itched in anticipation of a lengthy ride by horse back.

"Yes?" Alanna started the conversation, looking at Jon look at her with his arms crossed over his chest.

He uncrossed his arms and looked at her knees, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Alanna asked, screwing up her face, trying to think of what he was possibly talking about.

"About your brother. About Thom. Why didn't you tell me you wrote to him and asked him to come?" he detailed his earlier question.

"It slipped my mind?" Alanna made a face, rather amused that _this _was what their important discussion was about.

"Slipped your mind? Even when it comes to me? I thought we were best friends," Jonathan said, edgily, sounding insulted.

"We _are _best friends," Alanna shook her head in bewilderment at the silliness of this all, "I just forgot to tell you, alright? It was a late at night when I returned from the Dancing Dove after writing the letter. And George kept-"

"_George?_" Jonathan repeated, his face suddenly turning red, "You discussed this with George and not with me?"

"It's not like I did it on purpose. He was just there and you weren't," Alanna grumbled, getting angry, "And I still don't get what you're getting all worked up about! It's not like we consult each other before making decisions anymore! You sure as hell didn't consult me before asking Helena to the ball!"

Jonathan blanched, "Is this what this is all about? You're upset because I asked Helena to a stupid ball?"

"Yes!" Alanna cried to her great surprised, "I mean, no! I mean-she sighed-I haven't a clue what I mean."

She fell onto Jon's bed, her head in her hands. She'd just admitted she was jealous of him taking Helena to the ball! Even though she'd taken it back, she knew he wouldn't forget her words. Alanna felt a soft plomp as a weight settled onto the bed beside her. Jonathan wrapped an arm around her shoulders. For one, Alanna didn't fight back but still kept her distance. Everytime their thighs brushed against one another's, she fought the urge to shiver.

"Is it just me or was that argument the most idiotic one we've ever had?" Jonathan questioned a loud to the air, causing Alanna to giggle.

"No, it's just you," Alanna responded, "Our argument over red wine versus white wine was far more idiotic."

He laughed too, "I still say red wine."

Alanna smiled but looked up at him, seriously, "I'm sorry for not telling you but it really did slip my mind."

Jonathan waved his hand, "_I _should be saying sorry for the Helena debacle. And, anyways, I threw things way out of proportion. I guess-he breathed in deeply-I was just envious. I thought you were replacing me with George for a second back there."

Saying he was envious of George was a big blow to his pride so Alanna knew it caused him great pain to say it. She squeezed his arm and pulled it off her, "I'm not replacing you with George yet he is my friend. A very _good _friend.But don't worry. You're still my best friend."

"I'm still number one?" he wanted to know, grinning at her.

She nodded, laughing,cheery herself, "You're still number one."

From the next room they heard a crash, followed by a groan.

"Alanna!" Thom shouted through the door, his voice strained as if were yelling from underneath a great weight, "I need your help! I tried to practice swordplay and...the results were not good."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hopefully next chapter will be 'Prince Ozorne's Great Ball.' Oh and definitely more from Arram Draper a.k.a. our beloved Numair. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter and please review. It makes my world go round haha. 

**winky-wink**


	11. Prince Ozorne's Great Ball

**Disclaimer: **A few characters, major and minor are mine. Same with the plot, except the idea of Lady Catherine trying to marry Lord Alan is Tamora Pierce's. Everything else belongs to Tamora Pierce too.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Jonathan

**Musical Affection: **'La Tortura' by _Shakira _featuring _Alejandro Sanz._

**Author's Note: WitchyMage: **I _know_. Wait till you read the mix up involving the ball, haha. And, yes, he really is ruining her reputation. Very badly.

**krisconuca: **Yeah, I know I have places where I'm weaker than others but I'm glad you think I'm still a decent writer and that the plot is a good one. Thanks.

**Dom's Angel: **Haha, yeah I know. Alanna and Jonathan aren't exactly...jumping all over each other like a lot of other A/J stories. I like it like that 'cause I like to keep people waiting. Lol, really? You go back and read it all over again? I do that with my stories sometimes too but it takes a while when it gets longer. Anyways, happy reading.

**alana: **Thanks a bunch. I know, I love Numair too. He's awesome!

**FanFictionFanthom: **Wow, thanks. Yeah I totally love A/J for all the same reasons.

**Kokari: **Haha, yup. It's mentioned in this chapter. He'll do a lot of things by the end of this.

**Yasthira: **Thank you, thank you.

**okaliedokalie: **I have no clue. I'm fourteen so I don't exactly like a whole lot of experience with alcohol haha.

**Padme Amidala2121: **Thanks. And I don't think the ball will be like what anybody suspects...

**epobbp: **LOL...I'm glad I could do that for you.

**Lutefa: **Yeah, haha. Thom makes a few funnies in this chapter too. Anyways, I, personally, don't know why Gary took Delia either. Caught in her beauty I guess.

**Tortall Princess: **Yeah, Thom didn't exactly realize what was going to be part of the deal. haha...And you'll see more on Alanna's rep in this chapter. And more horrible stuff that Thom has to do lol.

**horrible lunacy: **It's funny for sure. And I just had to add Numair if the Carthaks were coming 'cause I adore him. Oo...thanks too.

* * *

'_Society is masked ball, where everyone hides his real character and reveals it by hiding_'-Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

"My lady, please! To the right! To the right, I say! No-that's _your _right. I'm talking about _my _right!" Ferra cried, gesturing wildy with his arms. 

"I hear you just fine," Alanna snapped, "So you don't have to yell when you're naught but five feet away."

That shut him up, Alanna noted, with a very unladylike smirk. Even Thom seemed amused and he tried to smile but grimaced. He had a bruise on his cheek from a bad play in tilting. His unhappy time as a squire was a great example of why it was best that the two of them switched places and stayed that way.

"Even in a gown you can resist being a lady," Thom shook his head, leading her with his hand.

"Are you implying that I am not graceful?" Alanna demanded, raising an eyebrow, "That's quite rich, don't you think, coming from someone who knocked over a _bookshelf _while practicing swordplay?"

It sobered Thom quite a bit and he said, "I thought we weren't going to talk about that in public!"

Past Thom's shoulder, Alanna noticed Douglass and Geoffery talking to each other softly. She couldn't quite hear them but she had a feeling they were talking about their good friend Alan and how weird he was acting lately. His performance in all his physically demanding classes had sunk lower than even the lowiest of pages and he was far more stiff than usual.

'_It's going to be torture when I have to go back to class_,' Alanna thought, grimacing even then, '_The boys will never let me live down the shame..._'

"That's it for today, young lords," Ozorne clapped his hands together calling an end to the class, "I'll see you all tomorrow. And don't forget the ball is tomorrow evening!"

He took Cythera's arm and whispered something into her ear. She laughed, its sound tinkling throughout the whole entire room. Alanna grinned, glad that it was Cythera and not some other stuck up noble lady that was Ozorne's partner for the performance. Word was he'd glimpsed her at dinner one night and fallen in love with her amazing beauty just like every other sap at court. She deserved the attention, Alanna decided, and having her dangling on another man's arm would sure cause Gary to finally notice her.

"Alan, Alanna, are you two up for watching quick match in the courtyards?" Douglass asked them both, "Some of the Knights are challenging each other and they say squires are joining in too."

Alanna nodded, furiously, as Thom shook his head with equal vigor. They paused and frowned at each other. Geoffery, Yuna, Douglass and Isabelle looked between them, confused. The Lioness pinched the back of her brother's neck and gave him a look that Thom knew as the 'do-things-my-way-or-else-I'll-dunk-your-head-in-a-pond-look.' He shuddered, invonluntarily, remembering the look well from a bad childhood.

"To the...match, then," he sighed, offering Alanna his arm. She took it, eyes glinting with a happy grin.

The three pairs of young squires and their ladies made their way down to the practice courts. Many Knights were there, stretching and sharpening their swords. Thom gulped and Alanna suddenly wished she was her squire self. She _loved _duelling with other men of court. Especially those older, cockier, ones that thought they couldn't be beat and took her size as an advantage to themselves.

"Come on, let's go get better spots!" Geoffery suggested, dragging Douglass and Thom along with him to a spot where most of the squires were huddled, eyeing the competition.

The ladies stood together in a clump of loveliness, a symbol for the Knights and squires duelling that they did _not _want to lose in front of such an admiring and pretty crowd. Jonathan, Gary and Raoul noticed Alanna among the crowd and waved to her. She returned the same, earning her fire hot looks from other women in the audience.

"I love duels," Alanna said to Yuna and Isabelle.

"Me too," Isabelle agreed, "So many handsome men to look at! They seem even more good looking when they're trying to be chivalarous."

"Uh huh...," Alanna nodded, not really paying attention. Jonathan was waving to Helena and she raised her hand in recognition too, fluttering her eyelashes at her alarming rate.

"Look, Raoul of Goldenlake and Timothy of Seaspan and Seajen are about to begin," Yuna stated, drawing Alanna's attention back from the battlefield of love to the battlefield of swords.

And so the duel began with Raoul making the first lunge. Timothy barely managed to block that first time. Raoul was drawing him off to one side and cornering him there with each swipe he made. Timothy, so busy blocking, he didn't even notice until his back was up against the crowd. A few people backed away, frightened for their safety. Once again, Raoul struck first and Timothy had to twist his arm to protect himself. Raoul's point gashed against Timothy's hilt, ruining it's beauty. The Goldenlake Knight twisted his sword backward and Timothy's sword immediately twirled out of his hand. It spun a few feet in the air before falling far from reach. Raoul straightened and drew his sword to his opponent's throat. The duel was over.

Everyone clapped, loudly. Though Raoul wasn't the best swordsman in Tortall, he was way up there. A minor like Timothy stood no chance. As the Goldenlake and the Seaspan and Seajen stepped from the practice yards to tremendous applause, Alex of Tirragen came forth. Alanna felt her heart fall. If she were only in breeches, _she _would've duelled her...partial friend. He'd changed since becoming Roger's squire.

"I challenge...," Alex paused to think on it.

'_Not Alan of Trebond. Not Alan of Trebond_,' Alanna prayed, silently.

"Alan of Trebond," Alex finally declared.

Many in the crowd whooped. A duel between Alex of Tirragen and Alan of Trebond was always one worth seeing. They were always neck in neck, each shared equal losses and equal wins. Alanna looked at Thom. He looked absolutely terrified to be facing the best swordsman at court and stood stock still, wondering if there was a way he could run away. Geoffery and Douglass pushed him forward, one of them sticking Lightning in his hand.

Thom took a few tentative steps forwards and cheers erupted among the squires, as their pride came forward. Alanna's twin looked pale and swallowed a wad of spit, trying to calm his shaky nerves. He looked, dumbfounded, at Lightning as if not wondering what in the world the thing actually was. Jonathan shot a glance at him, wondering what Alanna was thinking. Probably the same as him: I'll never live this down. My own squire, a perfect clutz in a simple duel...

"Don't look so scared, Alanna!" Isabelle laughed, "You've yet to see Alan's hand at a sword. He's magical."

"Talk of the court," Yuna nodded, "He once showed up a Knight from Tusaine or something, I think. I wasn't really paying attention. He wasn't what you'd call 'handsome' but Alan sure humbled him!"

Somehow Alanna strongly doubted whether this duel would be the best Alan had ever had. She forced her eyes to stay open as the duel commenced. Naturally, Alex made the first move, almost knocking Lightning out of Thom's hand then and there. Alex stopped and stepped back, raising an eyebrow. Why was his worthy opponent suddenly so...easy? Shrugging, he lunged in again. Thom let out a gasp of surprise and struck, blindly. He hit just plain old air with such a thrust that the sword slipped out of his hand! Alanna took it as a slap to her very being. Surprisingly, Alex tripped over the sword Thom had just dropped and his own went flying. That was when Thom did something he'd never done before. He actually caught something. He grabbed the sword with a gloved hand and turned it to it's hilt. At least he knew the pointy side from the dull one, Alanna realized with a slight sigh.

Alex was already up from his fall, clutching Lightning, dangerously. His face was flushed from his fall. He'd get Alan back for embarrassing him like that. He slashed forward. Thom jumped back. That sword had missed his precious flesh by only inches! He didn't want to die, whether it meant shaming Alanna or not. He started to run away from Alex.

The young Tirragen Knight chased him, shouting, "Alan! What are you doing!"

"I don't know!" Thom cried, still running, noticing there was no visible exit.

He ran to Alanna, who was seething, "Get back in there, you idiot!"

She spun him around and pushed him forward with a hearty shove and he held his sword, straight forward, horizontally, at his chest. Alex who had just been behind him, held up his hands to stop it from wounding his unprotected arms. Thom's sword stopped gliding forward just as the point poked Alex's chest. Everyone blinked. They didn't know what they'd just witnessed but all of a sudden, Alex of Tirragen's arms were up and Alan's sword was angled at his chest. It was no challenge to realize who had just won that battle.

The squires erupted in cheers for one of their own. Alex blanched as if he didn't comprehend what had just happen. The nobles watching the fight clapped their hands louder than they had for anyone else that night. What an odd creature that Alan was! Putting up a great show of being nervous and afraid when all along he wanted to trick the young Tirragen!

Thom dropped Alex's sword, shaking violently. Alex lowered his hands, shooting daggers at him. He handed Lightning back to his enemy by the hilt and Thom did him the same favor with his sword. Someone clapped his back. It was Geoffery.

"Alan! I was sure you were just going to lose, what with your bad practices and all, lately. But that was...genuis, I suppose! At first I thought you'd gone off your rocker or something but...wow, Trebond," Geoffery seemed at a loss for words. He'd just run up to congratulate his friend with Douglass.

"That _was _one of your more colorful duels," Douglass grinned.

Thom turned and faced Alanna who was just behind him. She was shaking her head, looking relieved more than anything else.

"This is crazy," she breathed, hugging Thom, "But thank the Goddess you beat him. Enjoy your first win, Thom."

She couldn't help but smile as he was dragged away by a great group of her squire friends who all wanted Thom to teach them that particularly humorous way of duelling. Gary was laughing and talking to Thom animatedly. Jonathan placed an arm on his fake squire's shoulder and said something along the lines of, "Good Job." Alanna clamped her eyes shut, glad that she wasn't completely humiliated.

"Your squire duels interestingly," someone commented, sounding amused.

It was Arram Draper, the Carthak. Alanna hadn't even noticed him and his delegation arrive to the court yard. He was dressed in all black, apparently that seemed to be his favorite color.

"I'm just glad he survived to tell you the truth," Alanna gave a shaky laugh.

Arram Draper smiled, the first she'd seen him give anyone. Even though he was younger, he was far taller than Alanna, even when she was wearing a pair of heeled feetkillers. His dark hair and skin said that he was Carthaki but his light eyes said otherwise.

"Are you really a Carthaki?" Alanna asked, then blushed at her boldness.

He shook his head, "I'm Tyran but I attend the Unversity in Carthak. Are you really a noble lady?"

Alanna stiffened, shocked, "Excuse me?"

"Let me reword that. I just thought that the way you analyzed the duels you watched was interesting for a noble lady," Arram explained, "Most ladies only analyze the men in the duels."

"I'm not most noble ladies," Alanna replied, dryly.

"Then, I believe, we may be able to become friends," Arram grinned.

Alanna smiled at him. She liked him. Now here was a young man who didn't try to bed her or duel her or anything like that. He just wanted to be friends and _that _was fine by her. In fact, it was a refreshing change.

"Then let me introduce myself," Alanna curtsied, "I am Alanna of Conte."

"The bad dancer," Arram joked, "And I'm Arram Draper."

"The mage," Alanna added.

He frowned, "How did you know that?"

"You're dripping in the Gift," Alanna responded, looking up at him.

"So are you," Arram pointed out.

Alanna went red. Was she really dripping in the Gift? It didn't feel like it. She'd always thought her Gift was a minor one but lately she found herself using it more and more. It was becoming increasingly more useful, what with mortal enemies like Duke Roger.

"My Gift scares me," Alanna admitted, not knowing why she was telling his to someone she barely knew.

"Well it shouldn't. You're Gift is just that, Lady Alanna, a _gift_," Arram said, his words bringing her a calming feeling, "I love my Gift so much I'm going to make it my life's work."

"Hmm...Arram Draper, the Mage," Alanna said, thoughtfully, rubbing her chin.

He wrinkled his nose, "You think I'm going to keep a name like Arram Draper? No, I'm going to rename myself something...powerful."

Alanna coughed then giggled, "Rename yourself? What names do you have in mind, good sir?"

"Well...," Arram trailed off, "Something like Numair or Dingowevsky."

"I'd go with Numair," Alanna stated, seriously, "No one will ever think you're a powerful sorceror with a name like Dingowevsky."

"I'll have you know that a great black robe had the same name," Numair sniffed, then smiled, "But I see your point and it is noted."

"Arram!" someone called, "His Highness, Prince Ozorne wants to see you in his chambers!"

Arram furrowed his eyebrows at being called uponby Prince Ozorne, he shot Alanna an apologetic look for leaving her and said, "Farewell, Alanna. I'll see you at the ball, I'm sure."

He was like the smoke that rises up from a potion. One moment he was there. The next he was gone. Alanna blinked. The room felt empty now that Arram and his strong Gift had left and, in truth, it was rather empty. A few dozen nobles lounged around the practice courts, discussing the duels. All Alanna's friends had left except for Jonathan who-Alanna sighed-was talking to Helena. Since when were they so close?

He saw her alone and waved her over before she could escape without seeming rude or like she was avoiding him. She went over and Helena relished in the thought of showing off her win of the Prince in front of Alanna. Jon combed a hand through his hair and smiled at her as she came to stand with them. Helena shuffled closer to her prize.

"Enjoy the duel?" Jonathan questioned, his eyes dancing.

"Very much so," Alanna nodded, "Hello Lady...?"

"Helena," her Gallan cousin interjected, "Lady Alanna, isn't it?"

"Yes," Alanna smiled, feigning politeness, "It's a pleasure to meet you.

"Oh no, the pleasure is all mine," Helena simpered, "Meeting the cousin of my dearest Jonathan is simply an honor."

Alanna plastered the fakest happy expression on her face. _My dearest Jonathan_?

"You're too kind," Alanna replied, not letting herself crack or her temper snap.

"No really, _you're _too kind," Helena grinned, placing a hand on Jonathan's arm. He looked down at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Please, I said _you're_ kind," Alanna's voice lost it's cheery quality but her smile was still in tack.

"No, you are," Helena said, stubbornly.

"No, you are."

"No, _you _are."

"_No,_ _you are._"

"Jonathan, who's more kind? Me or _Alanna_?" she implored, sweetly.

He looked between the two ladies. They both glared at him, daring him to say something that would upset them and please the other. He cleared his throat, nervously, "Erm...you're both very kind..."

"He's just confused," Helena cut through, "He knows you're far more kind than me."

Alanna didn't exactly know what 'kind' stood for but she was guessing it wasn't 'nice.'

"I know when my own cousin is confused," Alanna sprouted, turning up her nose, "And I am _not _kind."

"Well I am most certainly not kind!" Helena trumpeted, looking offended and huffy.

The Lioness paused before her tongue got the best of her and thought on her response.

"That's right. You're not," she decided, picking up her skirts and leaving the room with great dignity that she was not aware she had.

* * *

Lady Winfred called Alanna to her rooms the afternoon of the day of the ball. It was a chilly afternoon and the night was sure to be cold. However, that left everyone even more excited for the ball that night that was sure to warm them all up. The Lioness was dressed up as her squire self whilst Thom slept in her room, taking a break from his acting duties. Today, Alanna of Conte had gone into town once again so that meant there only need be one twin up and pretending until that night, of course, when they would both be needed to masquerade to the best of their quality. 

"You asked for me, my lady?" Alanna said, coming into the room and sitting at the same table that Lady Winfred was sitting at.

She looked up at her, sadly, "Alanna-her voice broke-my husband won't let up. My Abigail, my dearest child, is to be married to Duke Roger."

Alanna inhaled, sharply, "What does this mean for me?"

"Trouble," Winfred said, somberly, "I'm sorry for all this, Alanna."

"You're sorry? You're doing me favor and it's just...becoming more and more tricky is all," Alanna tried to comfort her, seeing that the royal Aunt was uncharacteristically upset, "It's like a game of chess. I'm good at chess."

Lady Winfred brought a hand over the table and squeezed Alanna's hand, "You're a good girl and I shouldn't be worrying you anymore than I have been, but I have to tell you that my husband has given word to my precious Abby to come to Tortall. She'll be in Corus in a week's time."

"Mithros! What're we going to do?" Alanna's eyes widened, "Two royal Nieces won't do."

"I'm not sure what we'll do but I've got something in mind," Winfred started but didn't indulge, "I won't tell you till I have the kinks worked out. As of now, I have one request of you."

"Which is?" Alanna inquired.

"Enjoy this ball, please. One of us should," Lady Winfred smiled, sadly.

The Lioness made a face, "My head hurts from all this."

"You may lie down on my bed whilst I go meet up with Roald for a quick council," Winfred suggested.

Alanna agreed, only because she didn't want to be out past those doors. Being in public would mean seeing all those pretty and shallow people who had not a care in the world except which set of pearls to wear for Prince Ozorne's Great Ball. She lay down on Winfred's bed which was the most comfortable one Alanna had ever been on. It felt like she was lying on a firm and comfy cloud. She threw her head back on the pillow and clamped her eyes shut as she heard Winfred exit the room with a quick click of the door.

'_I'm not going to cry_,' she told herself even as tears threatened to pour out, '_Even if my world is falling apart, I won't cry. I'll go down fighting_.'

The soft wisps of weak sunlight that drifted in through the lacy curtains dulled her vision. She felt her eyelids drooping. Her hands glided across the soft fabric of the bed. It was all lulling her to sleep. And she really could use it. A sudden knock at her door ruined it all for her. She struggled to sit up. Another furious knock came at the door. Alanna groaned and went to open it. To her great surprise, a servingman for Duke Gareth was standing there.

"Alan of Trebond?" he demanded, looking her up and down.

"Erm...yes?" Alanna nodded, "How did you find me here?"

"Another servingman of Lady Winfred's claimed he saw you come here," the servingman explained, "Now, if you would please follow me? Duke Gareth wishes you see you."

"Am I in trouble or something?" Alanna asked, coming out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

The servingman at her over his shoulder, grinning, "Well, young lord, with His Grace, it's hard to tell."

* * *

As it turned out Duke Gareth needed Alanna to run an errand. He said he knew it was the day of the ball and that it wouldn't take too long. It was a simple task of making sure a certain suspicious box got to a certain Baron. 

"And I know you're a fast rider amongst squires," Duke Gareth complimented her, egging her on.

So she'd gone, as it was her duty. However, the quick task soon turned long when Alanna reached a part of Corus she barely knew. Every street corner looked the same and it confused her to all ends. She had finally resolved on the help of a commoner, dusty from the day's work, for directions. By the time she was done and had actually found a proper house for the box, it was already dark. And with each step Moonlight took, Alanna thought, '_I should be getting dressed by now. I should be doing my hair now. I should be putting my face paints on now._'

If she wasn't there on time, what would they say? What would they do? Everyone expected her to be present at such a ball yest the Carthaks get offended. When she reached the palace, she looked down at herself and realized that she was far from a lady. Her hair was short and cropped around her ears, her body shape flat. Just as she was about to sprint towards Alanna of Conte's chambers, she met up with Douglass and Geoffery.

The both of them were already clad in new outfits, respectively blue and white. They took one look at her and Geoffery exclaimed, "Where've you been, you fool! We've been looking for you everywhere! You have got to get dressed and _now. _Prince Ozorne wants us at the ball before anyone else so that we can all practice our performance one last time."

"I will get dressed but first I-," Alanna was cut off as each of her friends grabbed an arm and began, literally, dragging her back to her rooms.

"Geoffery's right," Douglass nodded, "You don't want to upset the Carthaks by not showing up, especially when you're escorting royalty. Get ready before it's too late."

"But Alanna-," Alanna protested, not knowing what to say.

"I've seen her and she's farther along in getting ready than you are," Geoffery told her.

She froze, "You saw Alanna?"

"Yes...," Douglass said, slowly, "We both did or at least I think we did. Why's that such a shock?"

"It's...not?" Alanna shook her head, they weren't even sure they'd seen Alanna of Conte.

"Good. Because it's the orders of Lady Winfred that we find you and get you ready," Geoffery said, beginning to pull Alanna once again.

She followed, not fighting. Winfred had obviously meant get _Thom _ready but they would not listen to sense. Alanna shrugged them off and went into her chambers, where her clothing for that night was already laid out. Her suit, shirt, and breeches were all a dark forest green. _Thom _was supposed to be the one wearing them but Alanna had a feeling Jonathan had hid him somewhere lest anyone come looking and find two Alans.

'_Confused?_' Faithful asked, eyes glimmering.

"Very," Alanna said.

'_It's rather funny, actually. Wait till you get to the ball_,' Faithful snickered and ran off somewhere before Alanna could question him more.

Faithful's behavior had Alanna getting ready in about two minutes out of plain curiousity. She ran a comb through her hair, wanting to meet up with Winfred or Jonathan or Thom. Just anyone that could explain what in the world was going on. Geoffery and Douglass waited for her outside of her room, tapping their feet impatiently.

"Finally," Douglass sighed, "We're just three minutes from being late."

"Um...where are we meeting the ladies?" Alanna demanded, hoping they'd leave her so she could sneak off and manage to get ready somehow.

"In the Ball Room," Geoffery replied, "May we leave?"

The Lioness looked down the hall waiting for someone to come save her but there was no exit out of this situation so she gave in. The Ball Room was large and she could escape it easily. As the three friends headed down, squires joined them from all sides. Excited chatter and the clicking of new shoes on a polished floor were almost overwhelming.

Alanna felt dizzy and thoughts whirled all over her mind. What would happen if Alanna of Conte didn't show up at the ball tonight? Everyone would talk and talk and talk and talk...

The Ball Room was filled to the brim with eager squires, many just meeting up with their beautiful escorts. Everyone seemed to sparkle and look more heavenly than they would've just any other night. Prince Ozorne was a spectacular sight to behold. He wore bold colors of scarlett and gold. His face glowed golden and even his eyelashes had been streaked with a sparkly golden paste. Cythera was no less lovely, wearing a pale blue gown that clung and ruffled prettily, along with her body. Arram Draper, while much more plain than his royal friend, was still handsome in his mage-like robes in a dark chocolate brown.

Isabelle, wearing a pretty shade of magenta, slid her arm around Douglass' and Yuna, practically blinding Alanna in a flashy yellow that actually suited her, met up with Geoffery. He, for once, seemed appreciative of her beauty. And that was when Alanna noticed a sight amazing, beautiful and horrifying at the same time.

Alanna of Conte was dressed in a gown of a dark, almost black, blue that made her eyes all the more inviting. It hugged her body, beautifully and its crevices were accented by small beads of silver that caught the light and glistened. On her neck sat a thin necklace with a sliver of a diamond on it. She wore bracelets and rings to match. This Alanna of Conte's brown red hair was let down in long curls that rounded her face. Her bangs almost came over her eyes giving her a look of drama. Alanna of Trebond almost fainted from the shock. This being was so...beautiful that it couldn't possibly be what Alanna, herself, was like when she was dressed up like that.

Alanna of Conte held herself, oddly, twitching every now and then as if unused to this particular type of clothing. When Alanna caught her eyes she knew why. Alanna of Conte was _Thom_. Alanna almost let out a guffaw of utter amusement right then and there but controlled herself with a great difficulty. Walking over to her _brother_, Alanna offered him her arm. He frowned.

"I bet you think this is funny, don't you?" he demanded, ignoring her arm.

Alanna led his hand to her arm and said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Alanna dear."

"You owe me!" Thom whispered, harshly in her ear, "This is far worsethan megiving you a book for Midwinter!"

"I take it Winfred somehow convinced you to take the potion and play my part for me whilst I was away?" Alanna asked, her mouth twitching with an impending grin.

"Convinced me? Forced me is more like it! That woman is scary when she needs to be," Thom shook his head, shivering, "After her, the Black God seems like a kitten."

"I don't know about that," Alanna said, thinking of Faithful, "Kittens can be pretty vicious. They have claws too."

Thom snorted, "You'll never let me forget this, will you?"

"Never," Alanna laughed, confirming his worst fears, "By the way, and don't take offence, my lady, but I must know-where did those breasts come from?

Thom and Alanna both looked down at Thom's chest where two lumps rose ceremoniously. They were actually slightly bigger than Alanna's real ones were which she found more funny than anything else.

"They're not breasts! They're balled up bits of cloth!" Thom exclaimed, indignantly.

Ozorne clapped his hands together, calling everyone to attention, "May I start off by saying you all look lovely? Now, let me go on to say I'm sure we're going to stun the whole entire court tonight. May we all get in our positions?"

They all did and a final practice began. Now that Thom and Alanna had switched places they were more uncoordinated than ever. Luckily, many people made mistakes since they were all so excited so their behavior was not singled out. Ferra scolded them and told them to be serious. Arram told Ferra to lighten up lest the vein in his forhead pop and it seemed it was his snarky humor that made him so appealing to royalty like Ozorne.

A few people snickered and the clock struck nine. The ball was due to begin. Nobles started arriving in herds and by nine thirty the Ball Room was filled to the brim with the highest elite of Tortall. After short apetizers served by regally dressed men and women, everyone took their seats and King Roald stood up, causing everyone, even the Carthaks and Scarans present, to bow their heads at his glory.

"For tonight's ball, our guest of honor, Prince Ozorne and our very own Tortallan squires have planned a very special treat for us. They will be performing a group waltz with the young ladies of court to our viewing pleasure," King Roald said, smiling more out of amusement than anything else, "Let us welcome them."

A roar went through the crowds, particularly where Gary, Raoul, and Jonathan sat. Each of their escorts sat beside them, two out of three looking smug. Raoul's escort, Roxanne, looked more afraid of humiliating herself than anything else. The Goldenlake Knight had asked her to come with him because his great aunt had forced him to and because no one else had asked the poor girl.

The groups of squires and young ladies came out in two straight lines. Ozorne and Cythera were in the middle of them, looking for all the world like a King and Queen. Gary couldn't help but note how pretty the blonde haired lady looked and leaned forward to get a better look at her to Delia's great displeasure.

Helena noticed another lady of court. Alanna of Conte. She bit her lip. Her she-male of a cousin looked rather _pretty_. She put both arms around Jonathan's own arm, protectively, to show the court that he was _her _territory.

The candles were dimmed and the music started up. The squires made their way across the floor to their escorts. Alanna, who was used to waiting for a squire to come to _her_, didn't realize she had to go meet up with Thom until every other squire was about six paces ahead of her. She had to half-run to catch up for her folly. She gripped Thom's arm and he whispered, "You're leading so don't mess this up."

Don't mess this up? Wasn't that like her thing these-a-days? She sighed and stepped forward with the other squires. When she had to twirl Thom, she twirled him the wrong way. Alanna knew eyes were resting upon this amusingly uncoordinated pair. The dance continued as they setted forward and had to circle away from the front of the line to the back. Thom and Alanna both spun in opposite directions, causing their arms to strain painfully. When the Lioness was required to bob her brother, she dropped him from the unexpected weight causing a few gasps from the crowd. Alanna blushed and helped her twin up. When would this dance end?

After a few hundred mistakes later, the end of the dance came. Alanna passed by her Knight friends table and Jonathan winked at Thom, thinking he was Alanna. The real Alanna smiled at him and didn't even notice Helena stick out a foot to trip her and Thom. The music ended on a melodramatic note with Alanna and Thom fallen on the ground in a clump of jewelery, silk and velvet. The neccessary polite cheers came from the crowd and a few people laughed. Alanna's face was red with humiliation by the time she and Thom had managed to get untangled.

"You guys were fine in practice!" Geoffery exclaimed, utterly baffled by his friends' performance.

"We're not good in front of crowds, I guess," Alanna shrugged.

"You should've seen Prince Ozorne's face. He was more angrier than I've ever seen him before," Douglass added, smiling, "And Arram Draper only made it worse because he was _laughing_."

Alanna smiled to herself. The dark and brooding Arram Draper was becoming more and more likeable.

Jonathan asked Thom, "Care to dance, Alanna?"

Thom as Alanna of Conte shifted, uncomfortably in his seat, "Alright..."

The Crown Prince had obviously not realized that Thom was not his Alanna. The Lioness grinned. Let him figure it out for himself.

"I've got something...important to tell you," he grinned to himself.

Thom arched an eyebrow and shot a look at Alanna who was suddenly interested. Jon had something to say to her? She glared at Thom as he stood, ready to hear what the Prince had to say. He winked at Alanna and went off. She went red, wondering what embarrassing secret Jon was going to spill, not sure if she wanted Thom to hear it whatever it was.

"We should dance too," Geoffery said to Yuna. She agreed and they set off, hand in hand.

Many people were dancing. Douglass and Isabelle. Helena, who was glaring at Jon and Thom, and some squire. Raoul and Roxanne. Delia and Roger, who seemed to be bickering with each other. Cythera and Ozorne, lost to the rest of the world as they gazed at how beautiful their partner was. No unusual pairings that left Alanna shocked.

"What does she see in him, eh, Alan?" Gary demanded, swirling his glass of wine.

"Who see in who?" Alanna asked, turning her attention on her Naxen friend.

"Cythera! What does she see in Prince Ozorne?" Gary repeated in detail, looking at Alanna as if the answer was written on her face.

She wanted to grin but didn't. Instead she said, "Well, if you want a real answer, I suppose it's because he's a Prince and he's handsome or so I've heard ladies say."

"So?" Gary scowled, "He's also a prig. Have you heard him talk? It's always Carthak this and Carthak that and how hideous Tortall is. I thought she had better nerves of selection."

"Better nerves of selection for choosing someone like you?" Alanna teased, smilingly.

"What're you talking about? I'm here with Delia, what more could I want?" Gary questioned, with a frown.

"Someone who isn't rude, cruel and self-absorbed?" Alanna made question for question, "Cythera's everything Delia isn't. Think on that, why don't you."

The Lioness left her big friend to his shocked pondering as she got up and pushed in her chair. She took her cloak from where it hung on the chair she'd just been in and put it on. She was lost amongst the sea of couples dancing, dancing, _dancing_. As they twirled, her mind did too. Abigail would be arriving in Corus in a week's time, what would happen then?

Alanna noticed Jonathan frown as he spoke to Thom, realizing he was most definitely not a girl. He looked up and noticed Alanna. She wiggled her fingers at him as a wave and giggled. Now that he knew Thom was, well, Thom, he hadn't a clue what to do with him.

Alanna slipped out of the way, into a corridor. She'd been down here many times and knew exactly where she wanted to go. She opened the sixth door on her left, and entered. It led onto a snowy parapet, used by Tortall's astronomers. It was abandoned in the winter which made it a good hideout this time of year. Large piles of snow dusted over the floor and the Lioness instinctively hugged her cloak to her.

The night was a dark blue, the sky sprinkled with stars. It was a cloudless night and Alanna could see the full moon shining brightly. She quickly made a prayer to the Great Mother Goddess upon seeing her emblem. Perhaps that would bring her luck in her troubles. A sudden wind blew across the parapet and Alanna felt her lips become chapped, instantly. The hood of her cloak fell off, revealing her bright red hair to the night. Her cheeks grew pink from the cold and her toes and fingers numbed.

"When will I become a Knight?" she asked nothing in particular, "_Will_ I become a Knight?"

She heard her voice quiver, not really wanting an answer. It was more empowering asking the questions than hearing the dreaded answers. A brave spider crawled across the railing of the balcony, moving rapidly. Alanna placed her hand where it had been just moments before, her stomach squirming. It seemed she always had something to worry about, some problem she had to solve. Why couldn't she just be like that spider who could creep anywhere he wished?

Alanna breathed out and saw it billow, visibly, in the cold air. She heard the door behind her open and turned around, gently. Once she saw that it was only Jon, she turned back around, relaxing. She knew he wouldn't bother her with stupid conversation. He came to stand beside her, understanding her feelings completely by studying the way she stood. She was in no mood to chat.

"You're cold," he commented, watching her shiver.

She smiled, "I could be wearing ten layers of furs and I'd _still _be cold in a winter like this."

They both fell silent again. Another gust of wind came, numbing them both to their spots. Jonathan placed an arm around her shoulder and rubbed his hand against her arm to warm her up. She wouldn't admit that she was grateful for it.

"What'd you tell Thom?" Alanna wanted to know, looking up at him now.

"Nothing," he shook his head, looking at his feet, smiling, "It was stupid really."

"Stupid? I believe you told Alanna of Conte it was important," Alanna grinned, loving the fact that she was putting him on the spot.

"I thought it was important," Jonathan shrugged, "But once I heard the words out loud they just sounded stupid."

"Tell me," Alanna urged, speaking softly because she was so cold, "I like stupid things. Like you, for example."

He laughed and lightened up, "I don't know if I could say it again. But I could show you."

She pulled away from him, scrunching up her face in confusion, "Show me?"

He nodded, coming closer to her. Bending over, he brought his lips to hers making her squeak in surprise. She stiffened in shock. Of all the things she was expecting, it was not for him to kiss her. So she didn't expect herself to kiss him back either. But she did. Every tingly feeling she had when he was around or talked to her was increased tenfold. She felt jittery all over and the numbness from the cold was gone.

Their lips, chapped, burned against one another's. The feeling was intoxicating and as soon as she felt it, she felt close to addicted. Alanna felt him pick her on off the ground and hold her close. With surprising instinct she brought her fingers, which had been unmoveable from frost just a second before, to his hair and started running them through. She had always wanted to do this and never would've thought she might actually end up doing it.

This was _so _much better than the first time they'd kissed. So much better than any kiss she'd ever had before.

The door to the parapet came open once again, frightening both Jon and Alanna. They came apart and he put her back on the ground with a soft _crunch _in the snow beneath their feet. Helena stepped over the threshold, looking shocked. As far as she knew Jonathan had thought Alanna was a boy. Either he liked men or...Alanna had lied to her! Guessing by the hateful look in her eyes when she glared at Alanna, she thought the latter. Her face, her entire body, started going red with rage.

Alanna stepped forward to try to say..._something_.

Helena didn't give her the chance to speak. She mouthed her spiteful mouth and began screaming, "DUKE GARETH! YOUR MAJESTIES! YOU MUST SEE THIS! PRINCE JONATHAN AND HIS SQUIRE HAVE BEEN PARTAKING IN INAPPROPRIATE ACTIVITIES!" in such a voice that was sure to attract the attention of the entire court of Tortall and bring them running.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Tres dramatic, non? Haha, I hope the A/J moment wasn't _overly _fluffy 'cause I hate crap like that. Anyways, next chapter...brings more trouble as usual! 

**winky-wink**


	12. The Court Queer and her new Maid

**Disclaimer: **A few characters, major and minor are mine. Same with the plot, except the idea of Lady Catherine trying to marry Lord Alan is Tamora Pierce's. Everything else belongs to Tamora Pierce too.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **Winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Jonathan

**Musical Affection: **'Sugar, We're Going Down' by _Fall Out Boy._

**Author's Note: Kokari: **Yeah, haha, they really are.

**Lutefa: **That was one of my more favourite parts in this story-Thom in a dress, looking all pretty. Let's hope Alanna and Jon can convince their majesties that Helena is some kind of maniac.

**Silveni: **I know, it's funny and so wrong. And thanks too.

**dumb and jaded: **I really like this chapter too in particular. I guess chapters with balls are almost always awesome ones.

**epobbp: **Yes. At least I hope it is. Haha.

**WitchyMage: **I know. I loved that part too. And I don't think the conversatives will be happy one little bit, but that's just my opinion of course. Which actually matters in this case since I'm the one writing...anyways!...Yeah I feel bad for them too but it's funny too haha. I'm glad you like the quotes, sometimes it's hard to find ones that actually go with the chapters.

**alana: **Really? Well, that's great. I'm glad you liked the Thom and Alanna dancing part because I did too! And I totally get what you mean about Helena. She's that person you love to hate. I will try to fit Numair in here too 'cause he rocks. Oo...cool, name's Alana? Mine is Rae (pronounced Ray). Yuppers, and thanks for reviewing btw.

**krisconuca: **I have the same excited feeling with certain stories too! I'm glad you think my story actually fits in with the real story. And, wow, your compliments are crazy sweet. Thanks so _so _much.

**Dom's Angel: **Thank you!

**okaliedokalie: **It's cool, I don't mind. And, yup, I am fourteen. Probably one of the most immature ones I know actually, lol.

**Tortall Princess: **Yeah, Helena is really easy to hate. That's...the great thing about her, really, haha. I know, I loved Thom playing Alanna of Conte too! It was rather unexpected I'm sure.

**loveyourhamster: **Aww, I hope I did make your day! And I will try to keep my updates quick, quick. Anyways, happy holidays where ever you're going!

**Padme Amidala2121: **I know lol. And yes, she just had to blab because she's just that horrible. I'm glad the fluff level was under control.

**FanFictionFantom: **Yeah, it was a rather long wait. Haha, I actually read a fic some while back based on what would happen if someone caught Jon and Alan together and thought they were gay. But I won't focus so intensely on that 'cause I have other stuff too.

**Rosemary's Granddaughter: **Well, thanks. It's good to know most of the people are ok. It's sometimes difficult I guess. And glad I could get you writng. (cheesy grin) Anyways, unfortunately I can't exactly lynch Helena or Catherine yet, doesn't mean I won't think about it, Alanna knock Jon off the parapet? Interesting alternative to what _I _was thinking. I wonder if I'll get Thom to punch anyone at all, and who's D-whuzzawhatsit? Daine? lol...Oo but you can have Roger to grope if you want haha.

**Yasthira: **Thank you. I like dramatic cliffies very, very, much.

* * *

'_Some people bear three kinds of trouble-the ones they've had, the ones they have, and the ones they expect to have_'-H.G. Wells

* * *

"THEY'VE BEEN KIS-" 

Helena's screams were cut off as Jonathan ran towards her and gripped a hand over her mouth. She struggled against him but he held her strong. The Prince turned and looked at Alanna, desperately. They had to think of a plan and _fast_.

"Any ideas?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice calm and failing.

"Uh...no?" Alanna blanked, feeling like an idiot. Truth be told, she was still rather phased from their kiss and her brain was having trouble getting rid of all the tingly feelings. What a nice way to show him how great you are, Alanna mentally slapped herself. One kiss and you've gone brain dead. Great warrior you'll be.

"This is worse for me, you know," he used his free hand to rub his forehead for any type of plan.

The Lioness was about to argue but then realized it was true. He was the _Crown Prince_. The traditionalists in the King's Council would not stand for a lover of men to become their King. And even if he did become King, this would haunt him for the rest of his reign. The Gay King, they'd call him while Alanna would just be forgotten in gossip history as the 'squire-who-kissed-the-Prince.'

"I know, I know!" Alanna hadn't wanted to panic but she was.

The increasingly growing sound of a stampede of footsteps running towards them wasn't making the situation any better. They heard the voices of anxious and curious nobles rise to an ear splitting level. Alanna stepped forward, unsure of what she should do. She glanced at Helena and saw the look of someone who had just been served sweet revenge in her expression clearly. Alanna had never hated her more.

They stood there for a few more minutes, frozen in time, until the door to the parapet burst open. Jon dropped his hand from Helena's mouth and let it hang, limply, at his side. At the front of the procession of nobles were the King, the Queen, and Duke Gareth, with concerned expressions on their faces. Lady Catherine was at Duke Gareth's elbow and pushed forth towards her daughter.

"Helena, what in the name of Mithros is going on?" she demanded.

Her daughter ran into her mother's arms like she was the victim or something. Alanna made a face and placed a cold hand on the hilt of her sword at her belt, in case she had to fight off an angry mob of nobles.

Helena pointed a distressed finger towards Jon and Alanna, fake tears slipping from her pretty grey eyes. King Roald swished past her, completely ignoring her behavior and directing a question at his son, "Jonathan, would you care to indulge us on what has passed here?"

The Prince was saved from answering by a crash not too far off and a scream of a noble lady resounding in everyone's ears. The nobles looked around, confused, as the screaming continuing. This time, yelling was tinged in too.

"Don't touch me! Get! Away!" a lady's voice cried, seemingly struggling.

Alanna stiffened for a moment, then ran out of the room, knocking nobles out of her way. She _recognized _the noble lady's voice and knew that it was no noble lady. It was _Thom. _Her heart beat quickened. If anything had happened to her brother under her watch...

'_I'll never forgive myself_,' she thought with finality.

As she ran, Faithful appeared by her side out of no where. It was almost like a bad play wright where the sidekick jumps out to help the hero or heroine, in this case, Alanna noted with a certain amusement.

'_You were having far too much fun without me_,' Faithful's voice was teasing and he leapt onto Alanna's shoulders even though she was in motion.

Duke Gareth, the King, and Jonathan chased after her, looking anxious.

"Well, if I can't say anything else about your balls, I have to say they're very dramatic," Arram Draper grinned, leading the herd of nobles as they began to pursue their leaders excitedly.

Duke Gareth, Jonathan and King Roald came up to Alanna's sides as she stood face to face with a door, ornately designed. Obviously Thom was in there, in what kind of trouble who knew? Duke Gareth tried the door. It was locked. King Roald tried his hand at barging in with his Gift, but it was already heavily guarded with another's Gift. Alanna took out the stone around her neck and noticed an orange glow all around the door. She gulped. She should've known Roger was involved in this!

"Let me at that door!" Alanna cried, shoving nobles left and right as she rushed closer to the door. The King raised an eyebrow and the Lioness added, more politely, "Your Majesty, I believe I may be able to open it."

"How is that, squire Alan?" he asked, deciding to let the young man do what he wanted since the struggled between the noble lady and her enemy could still be heard growing ever more violent.

Alanna knelt near the key hole, "I'll need a pin."

The men regarded the women with raised eyebrows. The only people in the entire palace who carried pins were the female half of the court population. The noble ladies all avoided their gazes, none of them wanting to ruin their gowns by giving up a pin. Cythera went red and cried, "Great Mother Goddess! Here, Alan, take this."

She removed a pin that had been supporting one of her sleeves and it drooped, baring her shoulder. Even in this disasterous situation, Alanna could not help but note that Gary couldn't seem to get his eyes off that fine boned shoulder and delicate pale skin that covered it.

Taking Cythera's pin, she began picking at the lock on the door. It was rather difficult to do and she definitely wasn't an expert, but George had taught her a trick or two. Within a few seconds, the lock popped open and Alanna threw the door wide, charging in. The nobles all followed, not caring to be quiet or discreet. Jonathan, keeping his gaze alert, pulled up to Alanna's side, face pale.

They both recognized the room. Alanna had been in here not too long ago when she'd fainted. These were Roger's quarters, close to the Ball Room as usual. Even King Roald noticed and exchanged weary looks with Duke Gareth. They passed the socceror's laboratories, his sitting area and his library, until they all reached the area of particular interest, Roger's bedchambers. The door was slightly ajar and everyone was suddenly eerily silent. Even Thom's screams had disappeared.

'_There's fear in the air_,' Faithful said to Alanna and Jonathan, whoseemed to have heard too because he looked at the cat, apprehensively.

The Lioness moved a shaky hand forward and pushed open the door. The sight she saw was not something she was expecting. Thom, dressed as Alanna of Conte, and Roger sat across from each other at the table, sipping tea. The Duke of Conte looked like he was telling a joke and as if on cue, Thom laughed.

"Alanna?" Alanna said, incredulously, "You're...alright?"

"Of course I am, Alan," Thom replied, making his voice steady. He sounded fine...but when his fake blue eyes caught her violet ones, she knew othewise.

"What was all that racket, then?" Jonathan implored, being more rude than most other nobles were allowed to be.

"I was just showing our dear cousin here a moving illusion," Roger explained, sounding almost abnormally cheery, "I'm sorry if it was too loud."

King Roald laughed and Alanna detected relief in his chuckles. He was glad that Roger had a perfectly good, albeit slightly weak, explanation about those shrieks of fright because it was easier to believe than Roger harming Thom.

Alanna was about to retort but Jonathan sensed her tensity and touched her arm and shook his head. It was a bad idea to get all huffy and angry at Roger and the King without a good reason and evidence. She resisted a sigh. Sometimes she hated the way a monarchy worked.

Lady Winfred presented herself, shaking a little bit. The nobles parted for her, looking on in awe of the way she carried herself. If they were truthful they would have to admit she was more magnificent than the Queen.

"You should've told me you left the ball," Winfred chided, acting all the good mother but Alanna knew she was worried and felt a hint of urgency, "Come now, daughter dearest, we must make our way back to our chambers. It's been a long night."

Thom didn't resist her one bit. Instead, he looked grateful that the royal Aunt was leading him away from Roger. The nobles, seeing that there was really nothing interesting going on, except for a stupid misunderstanding, pouted like children denied of candy and returned to their precious ball.

Alanna, ignoring etiquette, followed Thom and Lady Winfred out of the room, without as so much of a goodbye. Let _Jon _deal with the problems and questions left unanswered about what went on at the parapet. He was the one who'd started the kissing.

The Lioness took her brother's arm, gripping it tightly. None of them spoke till they reached Alanna of Conte's chambers, their faces all varying in expressions. Alanna's was nervous and concerned, Winfred's more so disturbed and Thom's was...lost and afraid.

"Help him sit," Winfred ordered Alanna after she'd shooed the maids out of the way.

Holding her twin's elbow, she eased him onto a wooden rocking chair that was cushioned by a spicy green pillow. He shuddered, putting a hand over his eyes, trying to block out the world. Winfred pushed a glass of water into Thom's hands and he drank, thankfully. After emptying the whole class, he spoke.

"Mithros, Alanna, you never told me you're engaged to Roger," he breathed, setting the glass down with a thud at the table next to him.

"I...it wasn't definite until this morning actually," Alanna explained, confused about what had happened, "What did Roger say? What did Roger do to you?"

"It doesn't matter what happened to me! _I _managed to defend myself, somehow...but you, you're the one I'm worried about," Thom mumbled, trailing off, "I'm afraid for you, sister, I'm afraid that you've met your match."

"My match?" Alanna blinked, not believing that his grave expression was the cause of worry for her.

"_Marriage_," Thom almost hissed, "You think you can take that on?"

Lady Winfred glanced at Alanna, rather curious to hear her response, but the Lioness merely said, stubbornly, "I'm never marrying so shut up about that rubbish. Now, tell me, what did Roger do?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Thom replied, grimly, taking the balls of cloth out of his chest, making it go promptly flat, "Can we do this tomorrow?"

Before Alanna had a chance to say anything, the royal Aunt answered, "Of course. You can go...turn back into yourself in that inner room over there."

Her twin gave Alanna an apologetic look for getting so distant and left to go change. The Lioness grumbled for a minute, crossing then uncrossing their arms, before saying a short and choppy 'Good night' to Lady Winfred and left the chambers. Her feet clacked on the shiny palace floors with each step she took and her heart beat at about the same rate.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

'Prince Ozorne's Great Ball' was nothing like what she'd suspected. It had been so much more-worse or better? She didn't really know. It had just been so much more than what she'd thought it would be. As she made her way back to her rooms, a second set of footsteps joined her's. Alanna glanced over her shoulder and saw Jonathan, staring at the ground, behind her. She stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"Did you talk to your father?" Alanna asked, grabbing her elbows to keep them from shaking.

Jon looked up, "Not really. He was more interested in settling everyone back down for the ball. He's still back there in the Ball Room."

"Why didn't you go back too?" Alanna inquired, shivering as deep night settled in around them.

He shrugged and they both fell into a crummy silence. Alanna glanced at him, discreetly and wondered why he wasn't saying or doing anything when he'd done _a lot _earlier that night. Her mouth stung even as she thought about it. She was about to raise fingers to it but decided against it. Doing that would give away her thoughts to him. She hated doing that, especially since he gave no inclination of giving away his thoughts to her.

* * *

The sound of an arrow whizzing through the air and hitting its target with a thud was almost therapeudic for Alanna. She strung her bow once again and shot once more. This time she pretended she was hitting Helena's beautiful, vain, little face. Bull's eye. The Lioness shut her eyes and breathed out. Her breath swirled up into the air. Though the day was cold, it was only out in the palace forest that she now found peace. Up at the palace, itself, everyone was talking about her, Jonathan, Thom, Roger, and Helena. As if they didn't have anything better to do. 

'_They don't_,' Faithful purred, resting on a snowy rock.

Alanna scowled at him and strung her bow once again. This time she imagined she was hitting Roger. According to Thom, Roger had lured him back to his chambers on pretenses of showing him something of magical substance. Instead, he ended up talking about their future marriage and then had tried to get...physical to Thom's great dismay. Fortunately, nothing had serious had occured, other than Thom throwing things at him and wrestling him back a bit. When they'd heard people barging Roger's door, he'd ordered Thom to behave or else he would 'snap your dear Alan's neck in half.'

This time, Alanna came close to missing her target because she was so mad her hands were shaking. She felt horrible for Thom, but was also scared for herself. That could easily have been her and the thought of Roger taking advantage of her...it was enough to make her sick to the stomach. Thom had somehow managed to wrestle the mage off but Alanna was not her brother. She was possibly even worse atwrestling than he was. All she knew were silly tricks she'd learned from George and that didn't seem good enough.

'_Who's this bow for?_' Faithful asked, licking his paw, thoroughly enjoying Alanna's amusing little game.

"That prick, Jonathan," Alanna muttered in response.

He was just as bad as anyone else in her life right now. Everytime he saw her, he avoided her. And it hurt. _Very badly_. Alanna wasn't aware that a man could make her feel that way just because he was ignoring her. All over a stupid kiss that could easily be put behind them. She'd tell him that next time she saw him. That they could just forget that kiss, act like it never happened, and just be proper friends again.

Whizz, thud. The arrow had hit its target again. Alanna dropped her bow and sighed. She was restless. Nothing satisfied her since the ball two day's ago. As Alanna of Conte, she had to fight off rumors about her and Roger, as Alan of Trebond she had to fight off rumors about her and Jonathan or either her and _herself _as Alanna of Conte. She avoided all questions directed towards her and Gary and Raoul immediately quieted anyone who dared suggest Alan and Jonathan were a couple. Douglass and Geoffery, while less obvious, dismissed all rumors too.

Near her head a rock exploded and Alanna was jerked to attention. Another rock, this time actually aimed at her head exploded. She ducked and covered her head with her arms. She balled up like a porcupine and rolled away from the sudden explosive zone. The necklace from the Goddess slipped out from under her tunic and Alanna saw that all the rocks glowed black. There was a mage nearby. The Lioness leapt to her feet, pulling Lightning out of her scabbard at the same time. She stepped, carefully, her eyes shooting out in all directions with alertness.

"Relax," someone drawled, "I only threw those rocks to see if you were paying attention."

Arram Draper stepped out from inbetween two trees, wearing black, which didn't surprise her at all. His dark hair was combed, neatly, and he stood tall and handsome. He was grinning, slyly, arms tucked behind his back. Alanna lowered her sword but still kept it out.

"I recognize you," Arram pointed towards her, looking pensieve.

Alanna suddenly realized that he had befriended Alanna of Conte and hoped he wouldn't make a connection between their likenesses.

"You're that squire everyone's talking about," Arram said, then laughed, "Half the rumors say you're in love with the Prince and half say you're in love with his Scanran cousin."

Ok, so he hadn't made that particular connection. What he'd really said wasn't all that better though.

"You shouldn't believe all the rumors you hear," Alanna said, simply, putting her sword away.

"Oh, I don't," Arram answered, seriously, "You're a pretty boy but I don't think your Knightmaster mistook you for a woman."

Alanna struck her bow and this time pretended she was shooting at Lady Catherine, "Ha_ha_. You're so funny."

Arram smiled at her and brushed snow off the rock Faithful was lounging on and sat on it, "Scat kitten. Don't-Mithros-will you look at your eyes!"

After another perfect shot, Alanna turned and looked at Arram, who had picked Faithful up and was now looking into his eyes. He looked up and caught sight of Alanna's too and his own widened.

"You're one of the chosen. This cat isn't just an ordinary one," he stated, sounding in awe, "Who's your patron, though?"

For a brief moment Alanna considered arguing but just gave in. She was too tired to fight, anyway, "The Great Mother."

"Impressive," Arram noted, "You _are _fascinating, squire."

"I have a name in case you haven't noticed," Alanna sniffed, collecting her arrows and storing them away. She slung her bow over her shoulder and regarded the mage carefully, "It's Alan of Trebond."

"Strange, all Knights seem the same to me," Arram teased, "And, anyways, I already know your name. You're becoming known as the court _queer_."

The Lioness was unphased since she hadheard this new nickname for her before. She began brushing the snow off a rock near Arram's. Though he was a stranger to her, he was fun to talk to in his own way.

"I can't say that the noble gossips are wrong in calling you that," Arram smiled, "You _are _queer but in the fascinating way. I've heard so many things about you that I can only conclude this-you're a mystery and I plan to solve you."

"What is this? Advance notice that I'm under investigation?" Alanna snorted, rather amused, "I'm not a specimen under study, Carthak."

"Tyran," he corrected her, "And I believe you are a specimen under study. The most intricately wound one I've come across so far."

Alanna raised an eyebrow, "Solve me, you said?"

"Yes," Arram nodded, cheekily, "I'll have to do it by January fifth, though, because that's when we leave."

She couldn't help but laugh at his preposterous attitude, "I'd really like to see you try and solve me."

"I will, you know," he warned her, seriously, "Just so you know, your secret, whatever it is, will be safe with me."

He stood, slapping snow from his trousers, daintily, and gave her a bow with more elegant flourishes than she'd ever seen before. He winked at her and began the long walk through the forest and up to the palace. Alanna fluttered her lashes, glad to be distracted from her worries.

"We'll have to be careful around that one. He might actually be smart enough to figure out my secret," Alanna told Faithful, standing, herself, and drawing a arrow out of its quiver and stringing it.

'_I like him,_' Faithful purred, '_He petted my neglected fur-_here the cat gave Alanna a hint-hint-nudge-nudge-look-_and he managed to make you smile._'

The Lioness brought a gloved hand to her cheek and jabbed it, gently. Her bones were arched which meant she really _was _smiling. It was the first time in two days that such an occurance had passed.

* * *

Abigail of Conte sat back in her carriage, keeping her posture straight. Her dark, almost black, blue eyes stole glances out of the small curtained window. She took in her first glimpse with a certain relishing glee. Though she was half Tortallan, she'd ever been hardly anywhere near it, let alone its capital. The winters here were soft and pleasant herecompared to the harsh weather that was a part of Scanra in December. 

Her heart turned over, excitedly, at the thought of seeing her mother again. She folded her hands carefully in her lap and smiled. In the last letter they'd written to each other, she'd said she had many interesting things to share with Abby once she reached the palace.

However, the trip was bittersweet. There was a good chance she would never return to Scanra again. Certainly not as a single woman. Her father, Lord Cobalt of Rigton and Eastern Scanra, planned to have her married off to her very own cousin, Roger of Conte! She scowled. She'd met Roger seven years earlier, and while he was the very definition of pleasant, he wasn't someone she could see herself loving.

The carriage bounced up and came back down as it went over a particularly large bump in the road. Abigail gripped her seat to keep from falling off it. _Great Mother Goddess! _The driver really ought to be more careful going over uneven roads. The real royal Niece heard the horse pulling the carriage whiney and with a few more clomps of its hooves, it stopped. The carriage swayed and ceased all movement.

At first, Abigail thought that perhaps they'd stopped because someone had gotten in the way of the carriage because that happened all too often. But when the door to the carriage was thrust open and two men, dressed in torn breeches and rather dirty tunics clambored into her carriage, she knew otherwise. This was a _seige_. She gasped when they entered and realized they probably didn't just want to steal her precious belongings-they probably wanted her too. The niece of the King would rack up high ransom.

"Shut that door for me, will you hawk eye?" the slightly cleaner, hazel-eyed, man requested, sitting down across from her on the carriage.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," 'hawk eye' obeyed, shutting the door like a good servant.

Your Majesty? Abigail blinked. This man was not the King. He was too young and was also obviously a commoner.

'His Majesty' made no attempt to harm her or even rob her for that matter. Instead, he gave her a lopsided smile.

" 'Lanna coulda never pull yeh off," he concluded, rubbing his chin, thoughtfully.

"Alanna?" Abigail made a face, "Who's that? And why aren't you trying to kidnap me?"

'His Majesty' burst out laughing and 'hawk eye' joined in too, though with less merriment. Abby looked between them, dumbfounded. What in the _world _was going on? She clutched her necklace, strung with pearls, close to her neck, feeling insecure.

"I'm not 'ere t'kidnap you, Abigail o' Conte," 'His Majesty' assured her and before she could ask him how he knew her name, he continued, "Me name's George Cooper. I'm what some like t'call the King of Thieves."

Abigail's eyes widened as she took this in. Here she was sitting across fromTortall's infamous young King of Thieves, the Rogue himself. He was possibly the most dangerous man in the kingdom, but then why did his voice make her relax? She loosened her grip on her necklace and brought her hands, politely, into her lap.

"I c'n see yer surprised," the King of Thieves smiled at her again, "But y'needn't worry. Alright, mayhaps you c'n worry a lil' bit."

"Worry about what?" she asked, boldly, not quite sure how you dealt with criminals since she didn't know very many. At least she didn't _think _she knew very many.

George's grin broadened, "Let me start by tellin' yeh o 'Lanna..."

* * *

Snowflakes fell softly against the tall glass windows that showed cloudy weather from high on the walls in the Entrance Hall of the palace. Lady Winfred and Alanna hung around the Great Doors, trying not to look too anxious. According to Lord Cobalt, Abigail was due to arrive on that very day. Unfortunately, neither one nor the other intelligent woman had been able to figure out a plan to avoid their problems. All Alanna had really done was mope about it to Faithful and George. Jonathan was still avoiding her at every turn. Sadly, their best idea was to wait around the Entrance Hall till she arrived and hope to...sneak her away into a room and explain the situation to her without anyone noticing... 

'_Like that's ever going to happen_,' Alanna thought, biting her lip, watching the door.

Other nobles lounged around the room, either arriving, leaving, or bidding others farewell. Winfred was sitting at a chair that was meant more for show than for comfort, fanning herself even though the room was chilly. Alanna was dressed as Alanna of Conte for this particular day, leaving Thom to one more day of squire's duties before she returned to it full-time. She almost chuckled, thinking that if anyone came looking for the royal Niece, he could always cover for her.

"For Mithros' sake Alanna, will you stop that pacing?" Winfred frowned, her hand only a blurr as she fanned quickly, "It'll cause people to look."

"I'm worried," the Lioness confessed, standing in one place.

"There's nothing to be worried about," the royal Aunt assured her with more confidence than she really felt, "We've talked this over. Once Abby arrives, we'll escort her back to my chambers and talk to her. I've no doubt my daughter will aid us. She's a chip off the old block."

"Yes, but our plan sounds so much better in context than it does in action," Alanna protested, and silently added, '_And Abigail may be treacherous. What's to say she won't betray us to her father or worse-the King? She _is _half Scanran after all._'

"The more you worry, the more worse you make the situation," Winfred said in a very motherly way. It kind of almost felt nice to have someone to talk to her like that. A female in her life that she could pretend to hate, but actually admire.

The clock struck four. Bells from the temples and chapels rang throughout Corus, alerting people of the time. Winfred and Alanna looked up at the large grandfather clock in the center of the left side of the front foyer, rather startled. They had not noticed the time dwindling so. The Lioness leapt up, bringing her hands to her hips. Late afternoon, already?

"Wasn't she supposed to be here by midday?" she demanded, glancing at Lady Winfred.

"She was...," the lady trailed off, eyes glazing, "You don't think-? You don't think something happened to her?"

Alanna tried to look away but Winfred's stare held her fast. It was something unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Pure concern for someone else's well-being. Was this how all mothers felt about their daughters?

"I don't know...what could we do if she was in trouble?" Alanna posed a question she didn't really want to know an answer to.

They couldn't tell the King to send out search parties for a niece he didn't even know was coming. A niece he thought was _already _here.

"I have certain people I suppose could be trusted," Winfred started, slowly, seeming unsure, "But I'm not very confident with their rescuing skills."

"My friend from the city could help," Alanna suggested, deciding George would be their best bet at a time like this.

Just then Stefan, the royal hostler came through the Great Doors, dripping wet as snow melted through his clothes. His normally blonde hair was brown from the moisture. The nobles stared down their large noses at him, as if he were a thing of great dislike. He threw back his hood and noticed Alanna and Lady Winfred at a corner of the hall. He gave Alanna a swift bow and deepened it for Winfred.

"What is your name, young sir?" she asked him, looking at him past clasped hands.

"Stefan, m'lady," he nodded, politely, then turned towards Alanna, "My lady, the maid you ordered from Port Caynn has arrived."

She scrunched up her face, confused, "A maid? I don't remember ordering no m-"

The royal Aunt had risen and gripped Alanna's arm, mercilessly, "Oh, don't you darling? The _maid _from _Port Caynn_, remember?"

She said this loud enough for most of the nobles in the room to hear and though they gave no inclination, Alanna knew they'd listened in. Another maid for the royal Niece? It would be stored away for later gossip on how overly pampered she was. It took a second for the Lioness to understand that Winfred wanted her to go along with this strange charade.

"OH, _yes!_," Alanna clapped her hands together like she'd see many a soft-brained noble lady do before her, "My servingmaid! Goody! Let's go meet her now, shall we?"

Stefan smiled to himself and watched Lady Winfred and Alanna stroll out of the front foyer of the palace, arms linked like most other mothers and daughters. Except they were so _far _from most other mothers and daughters, that the scene looked almost ironic.

"I see you've learned the art of over acting," Winfred observed, a smile creeping up on her face.

"I think I was perfectly on par," Alanna sniffed, turning the knob on Alanna of Conte's door.

The royal Aunt went in before her and cried, "Abby! By the Black God, what _are _you wearing?"

The Lioness shut her door and watched mother and daughter reunite, harmoniously. If Lady Winfred was the female duplicate of King Roald, then Abigail was the female duplicate of Jon. When her sapphire eyes, slightly darker than Jonathan's caught her's, she could hardly tell the difference. Abigail of Conte, dressed up as a maid in a simple cotton garment in pink and white, leapt into her mother's arms like there was no tomorrow.

Alanna watched them, trying not to feel envious. It wasn't _their _fault she was an orphan after all. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father never loved her. None of that was _their _fault.

'_But damn them for making me miss something I never had_,' she thought, perilously.

Love just wasn't for her, she decided with a quiet sigh so as to not attract the attention of the Contes. Family love, romantic love...it was all too messy. It was simply easier to ignore all of that and just work to be a warrior maiden. A hero.

Pulling away from their intimate hug after what felt like forever to Alanna, Winfred pushed Abigail towards her. The Lioness stiffened and tried to straighten her posture. She had to look impressive in all her acting. After all, here was the young lady she had been portraying all these long weeks. Abby looked Alanna up and down, her face amused.

"You're prettier than me," she smiled, "It's not fair."

Alanna blinked. She had expected something more along the lines of 'How dare you impersonate me without my permission?' or even 'You've got something stuck inbetween your teeth.'

"Are you kidding me?" Alanna cried, before she could stop herself, "You're far better looking than me."

She cursed herself. She sounded like such a _girl_. A persnickety voice in her head said, '_Oh, but you _are _a girl._'

"I'm Abigail of Conte," the taller, dark haired girl smiled, "You must be Alanna of Trebond. George told me about you on a very...educational ride up to the palace."

"George?" Alanna blanched, "I should've known he was involved in this!"

Abigail giggled, "Yes, well, he told me _everything _one would want to know about the Tortallan court and even some things that one would rather not want to know. Like one Lady Yuna and her hairy legs?"

The Lioness waved her hand, grinning. She loved the way George's mind worked. He was such an annoying genuis.

"Anyways, he also included facts about all the ruckus you've been causing with my mother?" Abigail arched an eyebrow, "Really, I didn't know two women, a twin, and few nasty cousins could cause so much trouble."

"You'd be surprised," Lady Winfred said, sitting down on her bed, "Now explain that horrid servingmaid's uniform you're wearing. Since I'm sure it's not the newest fashion in Scanra, I'm guessing this is another one of Eleni's son's ideas?"

Abby nodded and came to sit beside her mother, "He's perfectly rational, you see, once you listen to him. I can act as a servingmaid while I'm here, god know's I need the work out.-she grabbed her stomach and pulled and pulled till you could see a thin flab of fat that no one would notice-And, Alanna can continue on being me. Her brother, Tim or Thom I think, can be her and _you, _you can keep on arguing with father till he relents this marriage business."

Winfred bit her lip and glanced at Alanna. They were both thinking the same thing. What if Cobalt _never _relented on this marriage business? Then Alanna would be caught either revealing her or running away. And where would that leave Abigail?

"Alright, darling," the royal Aunt told her daughter generously, "We can continue this masquerade for a little longer, I suppose. But do you really want to be a maid? We could hide you away in the city..."

"No, here's much more fun," Abby grinned, cheekily, "I always wanted to act."

She glanced at Alanna and asked, "So, has anyone suspected anything about you being me?"

"No," Alanna and Winfred chorused together. Then the Lady added, "But Alanna hasn't made very many public appearances. Really, it's been just one dinner, one sewing session, one tour, and two balls-one of which her _brother _played you. Most of the people she's interacted with haven't ever met you. Except Roger."

"And he's a bit curious sometimes," Alanna admitted.

"Well, you'll obviously get more invites to other such social events," Abigail's eyes gleamed as she thought of her beloved social events, "And, as me, you should be prepared for them. I could train you, you know. To be more like me, yes?"

"It could replace your lessons in ladylike behavior I suppose," Winfred consented, thoughtfully.

"Yes," Alanna promptly agreed.

Anything to override her lady lessons. And anyways, it really _could _come in useful. Abigail squealed with glee and jumped up from the bed and snatched up Alanna's hands into her own. She was smart, Alannadecided, but also very flaky.

"We are going to have _so _much fun!" she grinned, eyes laughing, delightfully.

"Erm, yeah...," Alanna agreed because it would have been rude to do otherwise.

Abigail was very much the opposite of Alanna and it would be difficult for her to become something she didn't understand. This girl liked balls, gowns, jewelry, and, occasionally, men. Alanna did not. How would she ever learn?

"Goody! We should get started _right away_," Abby broke away from Alanna, nodding vigourously.

'_Oh huzzah_,' Alanna thought, rolling her eyes, '_And Lady Winfred says I overact when playing noble ladies. This girl makes me look as if I'm not acting enough_.'

* * *

_Her Majesty, Lianne of Conte, Queen of Tortall_

_requests you, Alanna of Conte to be present at_

_The Queen's Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee_

_on the eighth day before Midwinter Festival_

_at the eleventh hour of the morning._

Similar invites went out to Delia of Eldorne, Helena of Galla, Yolane of Dunlath, Etta of Timberly and, Goddess Bless, even Cythera. Other noble ladies that Alanna was not acquainted with, like Nessa of Queenscove, Duke Baird's eldest daughter, and a Carthaki named Varice were also invited. According to Abigail and Winfred, these luncheons were usually very social events and invitations to these were only given out to the Queen's ladies-in-waiting and the highest elite in Tortall.

"Don't be surprised if they ask you to become a lady-in-waiting," Lady Winfred told her, "These tea parties and light lunches are often intiations."

"Mother's right," Abby bobbed her head up and down, seriously, turning into intelligent Abigail for a brief second, "Which means they'll drill you till they're satisfied. These events are to gossip about men, fashion and other women, yes, but most of all they're to solve mysteries of colleagues."

"Obviously these women consider you a mystery which ought to be solved," Winfred cut across, "They'll ask you about your family background, things you're claimed to favor over others..."

"You'll need to answer each question they ask with confidence," Abigail interjected, "Or else they'll grow suspicious. These women of the Queen's ladies are vicious. You're pretty andsmart, a possible rival, so they'll keep you close. You need to train so that you can be ready for the mind reading of your life."

Alanna looked between the two women, utterly lost. The way they made it sound, this seemed more strenuous than fighting off Roger's Gift from reading her mind. What a fun little 'Tea Party Jubilee' this was turning out to sound...

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ok, I'll admitt it, this is more of a filler-in chapter but I promise the next one will be more interesting. Oh and ignore the bad grammar, I was in a rush today.So sorry if you think this is a weaker addition and expect something better than this next chapter. _**Can't you just smell the cat fights and romance and drama to come? I can, haha.**_

**winky-wink**


	13. Bandits Today Tea Party Tomorrow

**Disclaimer: **None of this is mine. None of the characters are mine unless I make up a few fake ones here and there like Helena. Who really is sort of like a portrait of Delia of Eldorne when you think about it...but anyways, just don't sue me.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...unless I hear great roars of disapproval.

**Musical Affection: **'Bucky Done Gone' by _M.I.A._

**Author's Note: dumb and jaded: **Thanks. Hmm...I guess she reminds me of some people at my school too.

**Lutefa: **I know. They're really awesome. I'm glad you're confused, it's what I try to do while writing this story. Haha.

**epobbp: **LOL...omg I hate that too! Especially when it happens with really great stories.

**Rosemary's Granddaughter: **Haha...Cheers to the most _imaginative _of all my reviews. Your paper doll thing is also too true lol.

**kristina (krisconuca): **Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. And oh, I get it. Thanks for filling me in.

**WitchyMage: **Yeah, I mostly did it for the dramatic cliffy, which I love. Anyways, Thom's really great in this fic and Roger is really horrible haha. And, yes, Abigail and Alanna are totallly different. The whole appearance thing is cleared up in this chapter. Anyways, thanks for liking the last chapter and letting me off the hook for my grammar mistakes.

**Kokari: **Wow, excited I see. Well, I hope you're pleased lol.

**Silveni: **What's too much? Something bad or good? I'm hoping the latter lol. Anyway, yeah, it's always good to remember the humor. OO...and it's good to hear my grammar wasn't too bad.

**FanFictionFanthom: **I know. What's better than those things, right?

**Padme Amidala2121: **Yeah, I agree. Oh and Abby is only the most interestingest of maids.

Ok, I had a minor writer's block but now I'm back and kicking...let's hope this goes over well haha.

* * *

'_There was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside the dullest exterior, there is a drama, a comedy, and a tragedy_'-Mark Twain

* * *

"I don't see why you wear so much pink," Alanna wrinkled her nose, going through Abigail's wardrobe. 

The entire closet and all her baggage contained nothing but gowns. Now that Alanna would have to be playing Alanna of Conte almost as often as she played Alan of Trebond, her usual lady's appareil had to be increased from its current number of twelve gowns, half of which were only reasonable for balls. But she hadn't expected to be wearing only Abigail's gowns which, while nice and good for the King's niece, wasn't what the Lioness had in mind.

"It suits me, you see," Abby pulled out a particularly frilly pink dress that had a five foot long train. She held the soft cloth to her cheek and posed with it for Alanna. She was right. Pink really _did _suit her. It highlighted the roses in her otherwise pale cheeks and accentuated her dark-Jonathan eyes. Her black hair was beautiful too. It went with anything and everything.

'_She's so much like Jon_,' Alanna thought to herself, then shooed the thought away. Why was she even thinking about him when he wouldn't even look at her?

"But I can see why you don't like it. It doesn't exactly go with red hair," the royal Niece noted, reaching out and touching Alanna's short boy locks.

TheLadySquiretwitched, uncomfortably. She didn't really like people touching her. But she knew she really ought to make friends with Abigail lest she ever wish to betray Alanna to the King or Duke Gareth. The squire stood still and let Abigail scrutinize every bit of her.

"It's still really pretty though. And I love your eyes. Never seen a thing like them ever before," Abigail noted, with the deepest of interest, "You look so different as a squire than you do as a lady!"

"I _do _take a potion," Alanna pointed out, scuffing the floor with her shoe.

The only reason she was dressed as a squire today was to give Thom a break. He was helping her out, greatly, but she knew he longed to be among his books and scrolls and general magic once again. She didn't know how she could pull off the double act once he left. Perhaps Alanna'd keep her twin here just a little while longer...

She looked back at her 'maid.' Or at least that was what Abigail was supposed to be. Alanna of Conte's new maid. That would inable her to be on hand for almost all social occasions and thus protect Alanna from saying anything stupid or unladylike.

"And can we do this, quickly?" Alanna asked, looking at the clock on the wall, "Squire's don't exactly have long lunch breaks. And your cousin, my Knightmaster, will be needing me."

"But if you leave I'll have to _clean_," Abby whined, flouncing onto Alanna of Conte's bed.

"You're not a very good maid, are you?" the Lioness inquired, imperiously.

"You know as well as mother that I can't be let out of this room for long periods until that Lani-"

"Eleni," Alanna corrected.

"Yes, whatever. Until _Eleni _has made me a potion to alter my appearance," Abigail grumbled, "I just _had _to look like every other Conte in the palace."

'_Consider it a blessing_,' Faithful purred, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived there, '_Most of the women in the palace dream to be the likes of you._'

"I still get the creeps when I hear his voice in my head," Abigail shivered.

"Get used to it," Alanna told her, "You'll be hearing it a lot, I'm sure."

Checking the clock once again, she added, "And I better go. It's almost been a half hour since I've been here. Jonathan-"

Abby giggled, falling onto the bed, flat. Alanna glared at her, arching an eyebrow, "What's so funny?"

"I just-I've heard rumors. About you and my princely cousin. _The Court Queer_?" she fell back into an onslaught of laughter.

"Where'd you hear that?" Alanna demanded, going red, "I thought you weren't allowed out of this room for long periods of time?"

"I don't have to leave this room to hear gossip, prettyness," Abigail said, enjoying calling Alanna by Winfred's nickname for her.

* * *

When Alanna found Jon, he was sitting out doors, strapping his boots onto his feet. His cloak was flickered with sludge-the dirty mixture of snow and mud. Even his cheeks were affected by the horribly cold weather. They were as pink as Abigail's gowns. The Lioness approached him, cautiously. It had been a few days since she'd properly been his squire. Lately Thom had been doing more and more of her job for her. And this was the first time they would be on an actual task together post kiss. Alanna pulled up the collar of her coat around her and clung to her cloak which was over that. Today was possibly the coldest day that there had been all winter. 

She came and stood before him, trying to be tall, "Hello, Jon."

His eyes flickered up to her face and for a second she saw a glimmer of emotion but it faded, quickly, and all he said was, "Hi."

Alanna looked past Jon and noticed a bunch of idiotic men of the King's Own jeering at them. She knew what they were thinking. That Jon and his squire were _together_. Yeah, right. And even if they had been, they wouldn't have been stupid enough to display that affection in public.

"So, what is it that we're doing today?" she implored, merely making conversation. She remembered a time when they couldn't _stop _making conversation. Why was her relationship with her Knightmaster-her future King, so up and down?

"Bandit hunt with the King's Own," Jon explained, all business-like.

Alanna snorted. As if the King's Own actually did anything. Jon looked at her for a moment, surprised, then smiled. He knew she was feeling ironic because the King's Own were nothing but ornaments of the Crown. She felt so much better once he'd smiled, hoping that would change the mood. While it made them both a little bit more relaxed, it still didn't make them forget the kiss they'd shared less than a week ago.

The two of them went to get their horses, standing farther apart from each other than they normally would have. Alanna hoped she'd have a brief moment apart from him whilst they saddled their respective horses, but, unfortunately, Darkness and Moonlight were stalled together.

Stefan, who was looking at the two horses and shaking his head, said, "Yeh need t'keep those two apart. Or else the male'll get the female bulgin' with child."

Jon and Alanna's eyes darted to each other, momentarily, then realizing the other person was looking, they gazed away, embarrassed. The hostler pretended not to notice this odd exchange between the two of them. Instead he patted Moonlight and helped Alanna to saddle him. Jonathan needed no help since he was rather talented at handling horses all on his own.

Once squire and Knight had their horses saddled and their fleeces wrought on, they swung onto their trusty steads and joined the King's Own at the palace gates. Lord Issac, the current Commander of the King's Own, was clad in white and looked magnificently handsome as his blonde locks of hair tufted out of his helmet.

'_Too bad he isn't handsome _and _useful,_' Alanna thought.

Issac was more famous for his tolerable intake of Whisky and Vodka than he was for his battles. Right this minute, he pulled out a pouch of alcohol and took a hearty swig from it. He wasn't the least bit phased and didn't even sway as he got on his horse, steadily.

"Men Of Tortall, my Own, _the _Own. This afternoon, we ride. This evening, we return with the heads of our kingdom's bandits on pikes!" Lord Issac roared, rallying his men together.

And what a rally it was. The King's Own cheered and shook their swords, wildly. Another thing Lord Issac was famous for: melodramatic fight speeches. Alanna glanced at Jonathan and he was wearing the same expression she was. A sort of weary amusement. A Knight nearby raised the flag of Tortall, a silver crown with a silver sword on a royal blue background.

"For the Glory of Tortall!" Issac cried, beginning his ride into the outskirts of Corus.

The Knights of the Own screeched the same. Alanna felt a sudden flow of nationlism and couldn't help but shout out a bit as well. Jon grabbed the reigns of her horse to stop her from charging forward. She glared at him, wanting to race the way the other men were.

"It's going to be a long ride," he explained, "You wouldn't want to tire Moonlight out after the first few miles like Issac's horse will surely be."

Alanna blinked and realized he was right and that Lord Issac was an idiot.

* * *

Just as Jonathan had predicted, it wasn't long before the Own and their horses needed a break from riding. Alanna tied up Moonlight and Darkness, shaking her head. It was silly mistakes like this one that shamed the King's Own. They had no sense of stragedy, rationality or chivalry, yet they claimed to be the most honorable group of Knights in Tortall. 

Some of the Knights there had already cracked open their rations and began eating what was supposed to be their dinner even though it was only about two hours past noon. Alanna sat next to the only other person who wasn't eating. Jon. He held a stick in his hand and was scribbling patterns in the light frosty dirt. They were the only quiet ones among the noise and grobble of the other Knights. They smacked their lips and chatted as if on a pleasure trip. Any bandits within vicinity would immediately be alerted of their presence.

They had just reached the countryside that loomed around Corus. It was a rocky terrain and made even more dangerous by the layer of ice coating everything. Even so, many of the younger Knights were partaking in snowballs fights.

"Your Highness! By my side the whole day and you've not spoken a word to me," Lord Issac said, resting on the rotting log that Jon and Alann were at, "Don't tell me I'm out of favor with the royals."

Jon smiled and Alanna suspected it was a fake one, "Of course not Lord Issac. I'm just tired is all."

"Why don't you eat like the rest of my men? That'll warrant you your strength," the Commander of the King's Own suggested.

"I'm not hungry," Jon shrugged, then turned to his squire, "Are you?"

The Lioness shook her red head and attracted Issac's attention. He looked her over as if he'd only just realized she was sitting there, naught but four feet away. She was comically short but her sharp chin and determined eyes would give her away to any warrior as one of them.

"This must be your famous squire," Issac smiled, handsomely, "Your smaller than I would've expected. But that's no matter, I heard you've got magic with a sword."

"I wouldn't say magic, my Lord," Alanna replied, politely as she was required to do so.

"Have you ever thought of joining the King's Own?" Lord Issac questioned, still smiling as if he were some King, "We could use more of your sort."

"I'll think on it," she lied.

Never ever would she want to be a part of a lazy group of noble men that liked to think themselves Knights. However, in a second her mind was paralysed of all cynical and intelligent thought as Jonathan's arm brushed against her own. She shivered, involuntarily, and then blushed. She was sure he'd felt her reaction because he shifted away, slightly.

"My Lord! My Lord!" a cry came from a Knight among many.

A middle-aged Knight with uneven skin and dishwater blonde hair was the one screaming. At his right side he was supporting one of his dark-haired companions, who's right shoulder was bloodied. Obviously, the dark-haired Knight had been attacked. He was grimacing in pain and the blood from his shoulder pulsed down his whole arm. The other Knights looked on in shock. One of their own...hurt?

Jonathan stood up and Alanna followed suit. Lord Issac did the same and walked over to the two Knights, regarding them with a look of quaint surprise. _Quaint Surprise? _

"Someone get this man to a healer," Issac ordered, looking round at his other men.

They, however, stayed far away from the injured Knight as if he were a leper or something. A bold one shouted, "We haven't got a healer! You ordered them to be left behind 'cause you said we wouldn't be needing them!"

Issac's face went red, momentarily, then he said, "All is not lost. Someone must ride with our hurt friend to the closest healer in Corus."

Their 'hurt friend' moaned. It was apparent that he couldn't ride with his shoulder wounded as it was. Alanna couldn't _believe _this. They hadn't even brought a single healer along? What happened when the battle struck and began?

'_They don't battle_,' she reminded herself, '_They're not Knights. They're just really good actors._'

No one moved to help the fallen Knight, whose friend had lowered him onto a rock. Jonathan stepped forward and Alanna stared at him, wondering where he learned to walk like that. Walk like a King.

"This man cannot ride," Jonathan said to Issac, "It would be foolish to make him. He needs a healer and now. If you can't get one to him soon, I don't see much of his chances of survival."

"I'll heal him," Alanna declared, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop them.

She instantly scolded herself for saying so. Healing meant using her Gift. She hated that. But she couldn't just let this man die. The Lioness regained some of her stature as she remembered her old friend Francis, who had died of the Sweating Sickness because Alanna couldn't bring herself to use her Gift. She was _not _going to repeat that occurance.

"What know you of healing?" the dishwater blonde demanded, "You're just a squire."

"If you're forgetting, Alan cured me of the Sweating Sickness," Jonathan retorted, frostily.

The dishwater blonde shut up and bowed his head. Alanna shot Jonathan a look of gratitude before going to check out the dark haired Knight. The wound was worse than it seemed. Part of his collarbone jutted out, gleaming white. She flinched at the blood. Mithros, after she healed the poor soul she was going to a private bush and throwing up.

Bringing her hands over the wound, she struggled to concentrate solely on her patient. It was easier said than done since she had more things on her mind than an average healer would've. Multiple identities. An eccentric servingmaid. A failed romance with her own Knightmaster. A crazy and vengeful Aunt and cousin. An eternal enemy who wanted to marry her _and _kill her.

'_Yeah, I think I'm good filled with my share of problems,_' she thought, snarkily.

The injured Knight gave another moan of pain and Alanna instantly bashed away all other thoughts. Staring at his bleeding wound, unblinkingly, she began accumulating her Gift to her finger tips. From there, it flowed freely to the injured Knight. He absorbed the healing and she saw it begin to stitch him up. After a minute, the bleeding stopped. The Lioness ceased the flow of magic and began to do things the mortal way.

As she began to rip a cloth and bound it over the wound, she heard Jonathan and Issac consulting the dishwater blonde.

"Jerrold and I went to gather wood for our fire, my Lord, Your Highness," he explained, clasping his hands together and trembling.

"Start a fire? Don't you think the bandits would've caught onto our scent and fled?" Jon demanded, looking disapproving.

The dishwater blonde glanced at Issac only for a second before saying, "We do it all the time, my Prince."

Alanna noticed Lord Issac blush, but only a little bit. With regained composure he asked, coldly, "Then what happened, Knight?"

"The bandits were lurkin' about. Obviously knew we were here. Once they saw Jerrold and me, they attacked," the Knight flinched, remembering the unpleasant memory, "It was only by chance that we managed to escape."

"Where did the bandits go?" Jonathan questioned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Rode off for Corus or the village yonder, I wager," the dishwater blonde nodded, vigorously.

The Lioness tied up Jerrold's bandage and patted it, gently. His moaning had stopped and he looked at her gratefully. It hadn't been a very draining task. Once she'd set about it, he'd healed almost abnormally fast. She sensed all the other Knights were listening in on the conversation of their leaders, intently.

"Alas, this means we shall not be able to capture them today," Issac sighed, trying to fake being disappointed, "But do not fret men, we have chased them out of these parts for a while yet I gander."

Jonathan looked indignant and even Alanna was so bold as to jump to her feet in anger. He was telling them to pack up and go home _now? _When they hadn't even done anything?

"My Lord, we are not returning home," Jonathan held up a hand and his squire came to his shoulder, nodding along, "We are going to send half our troops off to Corus and other half off to the nearest village. These bandits are not so far off that we cannot catch them yet. Do I make myself clear?"

"Your Highness, I understand your worry for your people but-" Issac started, arguing.

"I believe my Knightmaster has made himself clear," Alanna interrupted him, speaking out of her station.

Jon frowned at her and blocked her away from Lord Issac's view. It annoyed her to all ends. The Prince glanced back at the Commander of the King's Own, knowing he outranked his opponent and therefore his word was law. Issac merely grunted, displeased.

"Sergeants Fireth and Michael, you ride with Lord Issac to the nearest village to scour for the bandits. Dumas and Quinn, you're with me. We head to the outer range of Corus. Is that all understood?" Jon ordered and the men could not do a thing but obey.

His prescence was breathtaking. He was confident, not arrogant, though if he got this sort of behavior and obedienceall the time he would become so. Roger should just get over it-and secretly, Alanna should too-Jon was born to be a King.

He headed over to Darkness, untying her. Alanna came to his side, working on Moonlight.

"Alan," he began, not daring to look at her, "You're not coming with me."

She snapped her head up so fast that her neck cracked, making a loud pop. They both flinched at the sound. Alanna recovered first and said, "_What?_"

"You're going with Lord Issac," Jonathan clarified for her.

She was stupefied. So now he didn't even want to ride with her? "I thought you were my Knightmaster, not Lord Issac."

"The rocky terrain around Corus is dangerous, particularly in the winter," he continued, "I've had experience with it in my days as a squire. You have not. You're much better off riding on the road to the village. It's safer."

She glared at him, "Safer? Don't feed me that trash."

Alanna knew the only reason he was making up excuses was because he really didn't want to ride with her and it hurt. She tried to act nonchalant but couldn't help herself. She was never one to conceal her feelings from anyone, whatever it may be. Anger in particular was a hard one to keep hidden for her.

"It's not trash, it's true. I'd feel better knowing you're safe," Jonathan tried one last time to convince her.

In retaliation she mounted Moonlight and went to stand with the men who were going to ride out to the borders of Corus. Her Knightmaster sighed and clambored onto his own horse. Darkness flicked his black mane and just as Jon was about to ride off with his men, Issac held onto his reins.

"You can't go. You'll surely get hurt. The King will kill me if I let you go," Issac held him back, trying to be reasonable but just sounding cowardly.

"And I'll kill you if you don't let me go," the Prince replied and to show he meant it, he grabbed hold of his sword hilt.

Lord Issac pulled his hand away as if it had just been burned. Shaking his head at the Prince's retreating back, he pulled out his drinking pouch and took a good long swig of Whisky.

* * *

The men of the King's Own had quieted down, considerably. Their faces were grave and pale. With Issac, they knew they wouldn't befall to harm and pain. But with Prince Jonathan and his crazy squire, who knew what to suspect? Each Knight thought himself dead already. 

Speaking of the crazy squire, she rode at the front of the proccession, a few horses apart from her Knightmaster. See if she ever even exchanged pleasantries with him after he tried to get her to be docile and safe.

'_I'm not some noble lady that follows all he wills_,' she thought, nose upturned.

But really, all she felt was awful. Alanna hated to fight with those close to her. It always made situations awkward. She was quick to anger yes, but she hated to be angry actually. She looked down the line at Jon, who was talking, softly, to the Knight beside him.

They had been travelling for the countryside for about a quarter of an hour. Occasionally their horses would slip under the snow and they'd have to stop. Luckily for Alanna, Moonlight was steady on her feet. The Lioness had only just stroked her mare's mane, softly, and nuzzled her nose into her neck when an arrow came whizzing through the air. It missed Jon's head by mere inches. Alanna swore it's feathery fletching had actually skimmed the tip of his nose.

Bandits jumped out from both sides, their numbers equal to the Own's. Swords were pulled out and soon the clanging of metal against metal was resounding throughout the woods. Not trusting any men of the Own, Alanna rushed through the crowd to protect Jon. He was the Crown Prince and if he was lost, so was Tortall.

Covering his back, she began fighting a burly haired bandit with an ragged patch over his left eye. At first, he seemed untrained with his sword, but as the battle wore on, Alanna realized his skill grew. Soon, he was almost unnaturally good. Even Alex of Tirragen could not have beat this simple commoner. For the first time in a while, she felt herself struggling to defeat an adversary.

Eventually her training won through and she slashed his chest. A welt of blood began overflowing. It probably wouldn't kill him, but he couldn't battle anymore. Not having the heart to kill him, she just stood over him over a moment, feeling sick. Just as she was about to turn away, she noticed something strange. At the inner nape of his neck of his tunic-the Conte emblem. Alanna recognized it, immediately, because she wore the same emblem on almost all her clothes since she had been dubbed Jonathan's squire.

Getting more suspicious by the second, she pulled out her necklace. Just as she'd expected, most of the bandits had an orange glow surrounding them. And those who didn't acquired them, just as they were about to lose a duel.

Whirling around, Alanna sliced away, viciously at Jon's opponent. The bandit fell to the ground, wriggling. Alanna tried not to feel guilty but did, especially when Jonathan gave her a surprised stare. She ignored it and tugged on his arm, wanting to lead him away from the fighting. This was obviously an assassination attempt and she knew that bandits probably weren't the only trick that Roger would have up his sleeve.

She noticed it when the men of the King's Own began to glow orange too. They stopped fighting the bandits and dueled their own companions. Somehow the Duke of Conte had managed to reach his Gift over to their friends and convert them to his own greedy ends.

Still on their horses, Jonathan didn't appreciate being led away from the battle so he hissed, "Where are you taking me? Our men are still out there."

"Those aren't our men," Alanna explained, irritated that he thought she was taking him away for silly reasons, "They've got Roger's orange glow about them. They're treacherous."

'_I bet Jerrold and that dishwater blonde were both traitors too. Their escape from the bandits was just too convenient. And Jerrold healed too quickly. I should've checked them for Roger's Gift with the necklace_,' she thought, upset with herself and her carelessness.

"What? You're back to conspirating about Roger again?" the Prince demanded. Even though Alanna had tried to explain Roger's mutiny to him, he could still not bring himself to believe it. He _loved _his cousin.

"I can't believe you're asking me that!" Alanna made a face, "Listen, do you want to argue with me and get yourself killed or live and enjoy dinner back at the palace?"

Fortunately, the group of the Own and bandits combined, didn't notice the pair sneaking off. Moving off the rocky hill and coming out to flatter land, they kicked their mounts to a gallop and began to ride off to Corus. Jonathan slapped a hand to his forehead, murmuring to himself. Alanna caught brief fragments which she understood like, 'I can't believe I lost a company of the King's Own' and 'What will father say?'

She almost felt bad for him. Almost. But then she'd remember how he'd been ignoring her all this time and feel rather cheery at his worry. After a two mile ride, Darkness and Moonlight slowed to a comfortable trot. Alanna lost fear of Roger's bandits jumping out and attacking them. Instead, she began more apprehensive of her Knightmaster's behavior and despaired that they'd never be normal best friends again.

She shivered and he turned to her, "Cold?"

Alanna shrugged, trying to seem platonic about the fact that he'd actually talked to her, "Just a bit."

He took off his cloak and threw it to her. She caught itjust as Moonlight joustled her. The Lioness wouldn't have accepted his generous offer to wear his cloak if she hadn't been sovery cold. Wrapping it around herself, she realized it smelled like him. Like Jon. It was a nice smell that she couldn't really compare anything to. Other than him. It was clean, not strongly perfumed like one would've expected of a Prince.

Another quiet fell over them and it made Alanna more concerned than ever. Maybe it was his scent so strong against her skin or maybe it was just that she was bored and wanted conversation, but something made her speak.

"Jonathan," she said, loudly more to the air than to him.

He moved his head in her direction, "Uh huh?"

Instead of saying what she really wanted, she ended up saying, "Look, I can see Corus."

It was true. The city and the palace were clearly visible, not too far off. Once within the city gates, she would feel a much stronger sense of security. Jon smiled and bobbed his head. It was a polite gesture, not neccessarily an interested one.

The sun was setting and the sky was colored all shades of lavender, orange, yellow and rose. It was such a romantic setting that it pushed Alanna to tell him what she was really feeling.

"Actually," Alanna went on, "That's not really what I wanted to say."

"No?" he looked at the city, his voice that of mock-surprise.

"No. What I really wanted to talk to you about was the ball...," she trailed off and stopped as she watched him stiffen.

Apparently, against the popular belief of her imagination, he had _not _forgotten what had happened at the ball. More than put her off, it actually encouraged her to go on. Might as well get this over with, right?

"I just wanted to say, about the thing that happened near the end...I just wanted to say I don't want that to ruin our friendship," she fumbled over her own words, "I don't want it to do what it's been doing to us."

He finally looked at her, eye for eye, "What is it doing to us, exactly?"

"Well, you know. We haven't been talking. I _know _you're avoiding me. I just don't know why. I don't care about a silly kiss, Jon. It's a rather stupid thing to silently fight about," Alanna heaved all their anguish off her chest.

"I don't think it's silly or stupid," Jon responded, icily.

She groaned in frustration, "Can't we just forget all this? I promise that you don't have to worry about me getting all..._feminine _on you. I won't cry or anything. I'll just...forget, I swear."

"What if I don't want to forget?" he inquired, kicking Darkness forward and charging off into Corus, leaving Alanna rather shocked.

* * *

"You look just darling!" Abby cried, clapping her hands together, "But- why the grim face?" 

The Lioness glared at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a bronzed gown, embroided with a lighter shade of brown. The overall effect was rather pretty, especially with her brown red hair, which was nicely curled. However, her scowl ruined her features. She kept replaying last afternoon's discussion with Jonathan again and again.

_'Can we just forget all this? I promise that you don't have to worry about me getting all...feminine on you. I won't cry or anything. I'll just...forget, I swear.'_

_'What if I don't want to forget?'_

The worse part was the realization that dawned on her, afterwards. The atrocious fact that _she _didn't want to forget either.

For Abigail, Winfred and Thom's sake, Alanna forced a mechanical smile onto her face. Reflected in the mirror, she caught Thom's violet eyes and knew that he suspected something was up. Winfred also had an inkling but ignored it since she needed to drill Alanna last minute on her Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee behavior.

"What are the name of your grandfathers?" the royal Aunt demanded, fluttering around Alanna, as Abigail brushed on the last bit of rouge.

"King Jasson, may his soul rest in peace, and Lord Alykhan of Eastern Scanra," Alanna said, her voice a monotone. She noticed Thom mouthing the names along with her. She'd practiced them so many times even he had memorized them.

"What's my favorite color?" the royal Niece interjected.

Alanna rolled her eyes, "Royal blue."

"My favorite playwright?"

"Janey, Warrior Princess of Thyre."

"My favorite season?"

"Autumn."

"My favorite-"

"Enough about you, dear," Lady Winfred cut through, "Now, what do you say when Queen Lianne asks you to be one of her ladies-in-waiting?"

"I accept with the humblest of grateful affection," Alanna repeated what she'd been taught then added, "Do I really have to join? It seems so idiotic."

"Of course you have to join!" Abigail cried, "I would be shamed if you didn't. And, anyways, no one says _no _to Queen Lianne. Half the noble ladies here would give their heads to be in your place."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better," Alanna grumbled, linking her arms over her stomach to stop it from getting queasy.

* * *

When Alanna got to the Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee, most of the other ladies were just arriving as well. She noticed Delia and Helena sitting together, looking like two peas in a pod, because they both wore gowns in a similar lilac. Yolane of Dunlath sat near them, longing to grow into her beauty and look as pretty as they did. The Lioness noted that she needn't fret. In a few years, Yolane would surpass Delia for beauty. Etta of Timberly sat beside her friend and just as Alanna entered, she sighed dramatically. Finally linking off the circular table were Varice, a delicately pretty Carthaki, who looked as if she had some Northerner blood in her, Cythera, who was stunning as usual and lastly, Nessa of Queenscove, Duke Baird's eldest daughter. 

Alanna sat down inbetween Cythera and Nessa and looked at the table before her in amazement. Even though it was clearly winter outside, the table was set with fresh looking flowers of all sorts. Jasmines, lilies of the valley, and roses mingled together to create beautiful visions and scents. Also, someone had laid out neat hand cut sandwiches, exotic fruits, sprinkled cookies, rich cakes, and about ten types of tea for consumption. The Lioness was shocked to find no one eating. No wonder these ladies were stick thin, they had miraculous will power! Struggling to follow their example, Alanna squeezed her hands together to stop from having to eat. She had to wait for the Queen to arrive at least.

"May I introduce you to Nessa, Alanna?" Cythera acquainted them.

Nessa was a tall, lanky girl with heart-warmingly green eyes. She wasn't gorgeous but that wasn't to say she didn't look nice. And anything she missed in looks, she made up for in personality. Not only was she funny, she was gently kind.

"My father talked of your Alan to me before, said he was a wonderful healer," Nessa said and Alanna couldn't help but be flattered that Duke Baird had called _her _a good healer.

"Your Alan is a Queer," Delia laughed, throwing her head back, "I should've known he liked men. Never danced with anyone at balls."

"Perhaps he never danced with anyone at balls because the only ladies avalaible to him were sluts," Alanna snapped back, feeling her face grow hot.

"Only slut here is you," Helena retorted, twirling her pale brown hair, "How many men are you rumored to be with? Sirs Gary, Raoul, Geoffery, Alan, Douglass and, oh, even the Prince himself."

"You're stupid if you believe those rumors," Nessa fanned herself, standing up for Alanna.

"Oh, of course, that's right," Helena said, acting oblivious, "You _haven't _been with the Prince, because the only one he's been with is me."

The fake royal Niece leapt to her feet so fast that her chair fell over in the process. Alanna reached at her side for a sword that wasn't there. She had almost forgotten she wasn't a squire right now. Making the situation even worse, the Queen chose right then to make her entrance.

"My dear niece, what're you up to?" Queen Lianne inquired, arching an eyebrow. Alanna blushed and all the others laughed, excluding Cythera and Nessa.

"Nothing," Alanna mumbled, lowering herself back into her chair.

The Queen regarded her for a second more before turning back to the other ladies and greeting everyone, "Welcome, young ladies of Tortall, to my personal Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee. Some of you-here she nodded towards Delia, Cythera, Nessa, Etta and Yolane-are already part of my ladies-in-waiting. Others-she looked to Helena and Alanna-will be asked to be part of my ladies-in-waiting. And one of you-she smiled at Varice-have been invited today to experience some of our Tortallan traditions."

Lianne lowered herself into a chair beside Helena and Yolane. Instantly, the Gallan began chatting the Queen up as if she considered them to be mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. Alanna strained to hear the conversation they were having but all she caught was, 'Funny' and 'So adorable' followed by 'Jonathan' about ten times. She clenched her napkin.

When Helena paused for a breath, Queen Lianne addressed the greater audience, "Why don't we begin by getting to know each other a little better? How about we go round the table and introduce ourselves?"

That stupid Gallan, Helena, went first, "I am Helena of Galla and I've been visiting Tortall for a good two months."

"You're Squire Alan's cousin, are you not?" the Queen questioned and Alanna perked up her ears at her name, "He's quite charming, though most say he's broody."

Helena's face fell at her cousin's name but she recovered fast.

"Yes, he's wonderful," she said as if it were acid on her tongue.

Next came Delia, then Etta, who sighed dramatically between her name and her home fief, then Yolane, Nessa, Cythera, and Varice.

"I am Varice of Carthak," she said, timidly.

"You are a close friend of Prince Ozorne and his mage friend, Arram Draper," Lianne noted. The only thing Alanna noted was how Varice blushed when Arram's name was mentioned.

Finally, it was her turn to introduce herself, "My name is Alan-"

Helena giggled and Alanna paused to frown at her before continuing, "Alan_na _of Conte."

Helena giggled again, this time amusing Delia so much that even she joined in. Queen Lianne plastered a vague smile on her face, "Shall we commence our meal?"

Alanna's voice broke over the Queen's own, "What's so funny?"

The two wenches stopped laughing and Helena said, "Nothing" in the most annoying way possible. Alanna's eyebrows flew away into her hair.

"Tell me, what's so funny about what I just said?" Alanna persisted, making the other ladies get nervous. They didn't like watching their own bickering with each other so openly. Would they do so in front of Her Majesty, the Queen?

"It's not you, darling," Helena waved her hand, "It's Jonathan. I'm just remembered something funny he told me yesterday."

The same yesterday he told Alanna that he didn't want to forget that he'd kissed her? She stiffened, "Is he all you can talk about?"

She knew it was a most disrespectful thing to say about the Crown Prince, particularly in front of his mother but she couldn't help herself. All she usually heard in recent days were many rumors about the blooming romance of Helena and Jonathan. And, though she'd rather jab nails into her eyes than admit it, she was rather envious.

"Why should I? Unless your jealous?" Helena demanded, boldly.

Everyone raised their eyebrows, even the Queen was shocked. Alanna closed her open mouth, then snapped, "Jealous? What's there to be jealous about? There's nothing but lust between you and my cousin."

"That's better than what you and Alan share," Delia joined in the argument, making everyone turn their heads towards her, "You must not even have lust since all he lusts after are _men_. Unless, of course, you _are _a man."

Alanna froze. How much did Delia know? Did she know Alanna was a part-time squire? Brushing off the thought in rage, she snarled, "I'm no more a man than you are a woman."

"And Alan's nice," Cythera added in his defense.

"Will you shut up 'thera?" Delia snapped.

"No," Cythera jerked out her chin, defiantly.

"Huh?" Delia looked surprised and confused, "What did you say?"

"I said no," Cythera crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm not your servingmaid. I don't have to do everything you say."

Lianne seemed to have broken out of her momentary trance because she said, "Ladies, let's just-"

"You do whatever Gary says," Delia smirked, "Like at the last ball after-"

"Delia!" Cythera shrieked, her eyes darting over to the Queen and back, face redder than a tomato after the harvest, "I told you that in confidence!"

"Oh, just stop arguing!" Helena cried, shutting them both up, "Can't you see that you're all seething because of Alanna? She's a troublemaker."

"Better a troublemaker than a whore," Alanna practically spat out the words. Calling Helena a whore was possibly better than even kissing Jonathan.

For a second Helena seemed to have mixed up Alanna of Conte and Alanna of Trebond because she said, "At least I'm no wretched orphan."

"Of course!" Alanna spluttered, "But I'm not the daughter of a gold digging tramp that killed her last two husbands either!"

Gasps were sounding throughout the table. Even Delia, for all her talk, was shocked. But no one was as awestruck as Helena. She blinked, as if seeing Alanna in a newer, darker, and more interesting light. Never did she think her younger cousin would have the nerve to say that.

Glancing upon her once more she said, "Today, you die."

Helena lunged across the table, knocking aside a triple layer vanilla cream cake and peanut butter cookies in the shape of hearts, frosted in pink icing. Queen Lianne jumped back from the table, just avoiding being burned by mint tea. Yolane was not so lucky. Orange tea poured into her lap, burning her thighs. She stood with a yelp, bumping the table with her funnybone.

Alanna, replacing her usual sword, with a cupcake, threw it at Helena in hopes of holding her back. It hit Etta instead, which Alanna decided, wasn't a very bad mistake. Furious and sighing dramatically, Etta grabbed a hunk of dark forest chocolate cake with her own bare hands, making pieces of it dig into her polished nails. She smacked it towards Alanna, who dodged it. The cake met instead with Cythera's pretty face. She squealed and wiped cream from her eyes. She tossed a cookie, that hit Delia's head. The Eldorne girl instantly reacted, picking up a picnic sandwich and whirling it forward. It knocked into the side of Varice's head. The poor Carthak whimpered and lowered herself under the table.

No one even noticed this abolition of a guest because Alanna and Helena had fallen into a pile of cake on the ground. They were rolling around, manically, fighting each other. The other girls didn't even know who was who in the blur of long hair, silk gowns and diamond jewelry.

Alanna _definitely _knew who was who. Currently Alanna was the who pulling hair and Helena was who having her hair pulled. A satisfying scream told her that Helena was hurting. The Gallan blinked away tears and bit into her cousin's left hand that was pinching her cheek. Alanna cried out and removed her hand. Taking up the opportunity, Helena pushed away her opponent and stood up, wearily. Alanna looked up at her, getting up, knowing she was not fairing well in this wrestling match. Her hair was sticky from icing and even her eyelashes were thick with cream. Her gown's sleeve was mutilated and her lip was bleeding.

Helena looked no better. Her hair was just as sticky and the back of her gown was torn off. Her arms and legs were covered in the ferocious scratch marks of the Lioness. She pulled back her fist, happy to be able to blacken the eye of her cousin. Thrusting it forward, she watched in horror as Alanna ducked down at the last minute, almost grinning at what was to come. Helena tried to stop her punch but it still hit Queen Lianne squarely in her left eye.

"Great Mother Goddess!" Lianne of Conte cried out, clutching her eye.

Helena squealed, horrified. Alanna stopped mid-smile, suddenly not amused. No one was. They all looked a mess and Varice, the Carthaki was weeping in a corner, obviously frightened by the horrible manners of the foreigners.

Pulling her hand away from her already puffy eye which looked like it was going to swell to the size of a peach, Queen Lianne glaread at them all. For a second Alanna was afraid she would yell. And guess what? She did.

"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, ALL OF YOU!" she screeched, her voice ear-splitting.

Before anyone could say Conte, the room was empty of all young ladies. No one dared disobey the Queen of Tortall.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is not a dramatic thing. It's funny. Or at least it's supposed to be, so don't worry about anybody too much. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and review if you're awesome 'cause I would appreciate it. 

**winky-wink**


	14. All I want for Midwinter Is You

**Disclaimer: **None of this is mine. None of the characters are mine unless I make up a few fake ones here and there like Helena. Who really is sort of like a portrait of Delia of Eldorne when you think about it...but anyways, just don't sue me.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...unless I hear great roars of disapproval.

**Musical Affection: **'All I Want For Christmas Is You' remade by _My Chemical Romance. _

(Yeah I'm aware it's no where near Christmas, but hey-this is a Midwinter Festival Chapter which is a lot like Christmas. And I'm feeling all the warm fuzzies haha.)

**Author's Note: Rosemary's Granddaughter: **LOL, yup. And you're Roger infatuation is the strongest I've ever seen haha. Btw, your story-sounds fascinating. And, um, I really don't know what to say about the rest of your review 'cause I don't understand it lol.

**Dom's Angel: **Thank you. Thank you. I'm glad you liked it.

**Lutefa: **Your tea parties sound intelligent! I love hating Helena, it's great. I'm not sure if Alanna is really a princess, more a very, v_ery _important Lady of court. And, yeah, all that etiquette stuff really bites.

**Silveni: **Yay! Yes, Varice was just random. Lol...put her in 'cause the Carthaks were there. I liked the foodfight idea too.

**WitchyMage: **Good to hear that you liked the King's Own part and the Tea Party Jubilee part. I rather liked the creation of Issac too.

**Yasthira: **I _love _that line too! And thanks.

**dumb and jaded: **It doesn't have to be lasting, I'm not sure if I'll actually stick them together by the end of this. It's still fuzzy. But I'm glad you're looking past it and that you liked everything else.

**alana: **Yeah, I agree actually. I wasn't epsecially fond of my last last chapter either. But I'm glad you liked this previous chapter. Thanks.

**Sarralyn: **Hehe, ok here you go...

**Queen Alanna: **Thank you. Thank you. Yeah, I don't want to rush into the A/J thing. I like making it an agonizing wait.

**Tortall Princess: **I _know. _LOL...and thanks.

**Padme Amidala2121: **Nope, not anytime soon like you guessed. Hmm...I might have more A/J in this chapter but nothing overly fluffy. That annoys me usually.

**Angel of Dream: **Thanks and yeah, what you said is so true. I like keeping things in disarray.

**epobbp: **Haha, thanks. Well, she's displeased of course because her rep. is ruined!

**silfaeyn: **Thanks for the tips and the compliments, they're appreciated.

**Kokari: **Lol, yeah. Poor you and homework! I had some too in science (mphftt! I _hate _science) and math.

_**Don't mind the blatant song lyrics in this chapter. It's sort of a song fic chapter but more so because I love what the song is saying a lot lol. Oh, and some words are changed around to better suit Tortall. Mostly changing the word "Christmas" to "Midwinter" hahaha. I know, I'm cheap, ok?**_

* * *

'_Love that we cannot have is the one that lasts the longest, hurts the deepest, and feels the strongest_'-Unknown (Doesn't this totally apply to A/J?)

* * *

"Varice. Varice, stop crying, please!" Cythera soothed the pretty Carthak who was sobbing as she picked cookie crumbs out of her hair. 

"Yes, shut your trap," Delia snapped, "Do you want to attract attention to us or something?"

"I believe that's pretty well accomplished with our appearance," Nessa remarked, sarcastically.

Through all this disaster, Alanna laughed. She was so true, it was funny. The eight young ladies that had that had left the Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee, more or less ressembled a bakery that had a tornado whip through it. The worst of the lot were Alanna and Helena, who had rolled in a seven layer crumble cake for about ten minutes. Not to saythat the others weren't bad. Varice, for one, was sobbing, andhad numerous cookies clinging to her and even a stray tea leaf in her blonde hair. Cythera was supporting her weight, like a good friend, and not even caring that her gown was smudged brown from fudge. Nessa was slightly cleaner with one a few mushed bananas down her front. Etta was sighing dramatically as she picked cake out of her fingernails. Yolane looked funniest because she had her gown drawn up past her thighs so she could fan them to stop the burning sensation from the hot tea.

"If you're trying to be sarcastic-don't," she said, coldly, "We're about to pass the Noble's Mess and here I am, fanning my thighs!"

"At least your's are trimmed," Etta noted, then sighed, "Mine are _huge_."

"They can't be bad as Roxanne's, can they?" Cythera joked, then covered her mouth in shame, "That was unkind! Don't tell her I mentioned her thighs!"

"If I hear one more person mention thighs, I will massacre them," Delia warned, glaring at the girls over her shoulder.

Ironically enough, for these eight quarreling girls, being yelled at by the Queen had almost brought them together. They were joined in their fighting, might as well be joined in their shame, right? They walked side-by-side, forgetting that they'd only just wrestled like mad bulls. Alanna was actually strolling alongside Helena, imagine! No one had stopped hating each other, but they all knew they would have to stick together if they wanted to get out of this deep trouble.

"What do you think they'll say?" Nessa wondered aloud, "With us in our current state, the Queen's black eye and the entire court about to see us, I'm sure they'll be stories shooting around for days."

Helena snorted, "Knowing the men, they'll probably make it out as a battle over _them._"

"Wasn't it, though?" Yolane demanded, her thighs red and not looking to get any better.

Alanna thought it over for a second and decided Yolane was sort of right. The arguments had initially started between her and Helena over Jon. How embarrassing that she couldn't even hold herself in! Alanna of Conte wasn't supposed to fancy her cousin, she was supposed to fancy Alan of Trebond.

"Speaking of that," Helena added, thoughtfully, "Jonathan's _mine_."

"You can have him for all I care," the Lioness snarled in reply, even though she did care a bit.

"Stop bickering, will you?" Delia scolded, slowing down as they approached a door, "Here we are."

By 'here' she meant the Noble's Mess, since it was about fifteen to twenty minutes into lunch, most everyone would be in there. What a spectacle it would be when the most exalted noble ladies in Tortall crossed the floor, dressed up as cupcakes! But it was the only real way to go if they wanted to reach their chambers. Varice dabbed away tears, more embarrassed than the rest of them because she was foreign.

Even Alanna's face was growing hot at the prospect. Gary, Raoul, Jon and many of her other Knight friends would be in there now. Perhaps some of the squires or pages would even be tending to people. Steeling herself, she nudged Helena out of the way, and entered the Mess Hall before all others.

When she entered, followed by the other seven, a general gasp went through the crowd. Other young noble ladies covered their mouths and started to whisper, making up rumors already. The elders looked down at them, disapproval etched into every corner of their faces. Lady Winfred tried to blink the scene away as some kind of illusion, but, unfortunately, it was real. Abigail, who had been tending to her, almost dropped her tray of drinks in shock. Her reputation was ruined!

The Knights and the young noble men were the only ones rather pleased and amused. Most were enjoying seeing their favorite court trinkets with their gowns half gone, obviously fresh from a fight. Thom, sitting beside Jon, was clutching his stomach as silent laughter fell from his lips. Gary and Raoul were much the same, though Jon looked at them with raised eyebrows just like his father did.

No one spoke and after a few dreadful paces, they were out of the Noble's Mess. Once out, the girls broke out into a run to their respective chambers. After seeing the way everyone stared at them, the horror of their situation dawned on them.

In ten minutes, every one of the disasterous eight had thrown their ruined gowns off and were sitting in their baths, trying to scrub the icing out of their hair.

* * *

Alanna wasn't surprised to hear everyone talking about the Tea Party Jubilee for days after. To save her from her embarrassment, Winfred granted her the permission to go on being a squire for the time being. During this time, Thompulled himself together as some Lord with the help of another one of Eleni's potions. Abigail had also begun using Eleni's potions and was utterly fascinated by how she could sneak around the palace. She loved overhearing inappropriate conversation and enjoyed following Alanna around, seeing what it was like for a girl dressed up as a boy. 

Being a squire had never been more easy. No one asked her to do anything because they all thought her lousy now that Thom had to go on as Alan for many swordplay sessions. The Lioness grumbled but didn't try to show her talent because that would only put her twin in a bad situation of expectation again. Her performance couldn't be so up and down that people would get suspicious.

"Did you know that Delia and Cythera got knocked off the ladies-in-waiting?" Douglass asked her one afternoon, while they were riding through the royal forest.

Alanna almost fell off her horse, "They did?"

"Apparently," Geoffery interjected, reining in his horse, "The Queen said they were major problems during the Luncheon and Tea Party."

Slowing Moonlight down a bit so that she could steady herself, she inquired, "What of Nessa, Yolane and Etta?"

"Let off with a warning," Douglass said, patting his stead, Thaybath, as the three friends passed under a group of bare trees.

Snow was falling delicately from the sky and their breath swirled up into the air. The forest was quiet-devoid of all wildlife. Midwinter Festival was three days away and the whole Tortallan court was gearing up, excitedly. This year was sure to be a memorable one since the Carthaks and the royal Aunt and Niece were present. Alanna had quietly bought all her presents for all her friends, this year including Lady Winfred, Cythera and Abigail (just to be polite) in her list.

A snowflake fell on Alanna's nose and she wrinkled it till it slid off, "And Lady Helena and Alanna?"

Douglass shrugged, "They were never in the ladies-in-waiting...but I'm sure the Queen's not pleased with them."

The Lioness gulped. She had always prided herself on being on good terms with the royal monarchs. At least it was only Alanna of Conte they despised, not Alan of Trebond.

"Did you hear that Carthaki, Varice, talking? She claims that Lady Alanna and Lady Helena were brawling about!" Geoffery exclaimed, grinning to himself, "I would oh so have liked to see that."

Alanna kicked her horse to a gallop, not liking to be reminded of the Tea Party chaos. Geoffery and Douglass followed suit and soon they were all too far concentrated on riding to talk to each other. She almost preferred it that way. Soon, they were back at the palace courtyards, kicking up any snow in their path. After stabling their horses, Douglass and Geoffery ran off. Alanna dawdled, not really caring for their chatter.

She brushed Moonlight and looked over to the next stall. Darkness was not there which meant Jonathan was out riding. This time of year was the best for the Prince and most all young men at court because it was now that young noble ladies poured into the palace from the Convent and various fiefs for Midwinter Festival celebrations and husband hunting. And, of course, everyone wanted a Prince.

"Hello Alan," someone greeted her, warmly from behind.

Alanna almost jumped out of her skin as she whirled around. It was Arram Draper, wearing a deep green tunic and tan breeches with a green cloak. He was fidgeting with its golden clasp, absentminedly as he stared at her, smiling. He was leaning against the wall of the stall and had walked in so silently she hadn't even been aware of his presence.

"How long have you been standing there?" she demanded, suspiciously.

Arram didn't answer her question but instead asked one of his own, "Wondering where the Prince is, I suppose?"

The two of them glanced at Darkness' empty stall and the Lioness decided he had been standing there far too long. She wondered if anyone else had seen her looking at that empty stall, thinking she was longing for her Knightmaster since she was so _obviously _queer in their opinion.

Playing on her annoyed silence, he went on, "Well since you're just _begging _me to say where he's off to, I'll tell you. He rode off with that Gallan cousin of your's. Lady Helena, I believe."

"Oh?" Alanna tried not to reveal anything in her voice but it quivered nonetheless.

"Yes, they've been riding around this time for the past few days. Do you think it's love?" Arram implored, coming closer and rubbing Moonlight's neck.

The female squire glared at him, "_No._ I don't think it's love."

"Don't you hope it's love? Imagine all the amenities if your cousin was to be Queen," the Carthaki mage said, looking at Alanna for any sign, any inclination that something was up.

She straightened her face as she'd heard they often did in the Yamani Islands, "Of course I hope it's love."

"Liar," Arram laughed, "You never cease to surprise and amaze."

Opening the door to Moonlight's stall and walking out of it, leaving Arram unless he chose to follow. He did, smiling at her, irritably.

"You're still trying to solve me then?" Alanna asked, rather amused.

"I'm halfway done actually," he replied, running his fingers through his hair.

"Let me guess, you've concluded I'm a lover of men? Or am I a mage? Or a Shang? What is it they're saying about me this week?" she questioned, laughing at herself. It felt good.

"No-well, yes. You're a lover of men but not in the way people think," Arram grinned, "And you are a mage. Magical with your Gift, magical with your disguises. As for being a Shang, I don't know about that. I'll look into it though. I wouldn't be surprised if you were."

Alanna froze. Arram Draper sounded far too detailed to make her comfortable. A lover of men in a different way from what people think? Magical with disguises? Could he possibly he playing with the idea that she was..._a girl? _Mithros no, don't let this happen.

"Don't look so frightened!" he chuckled, "I told you I was going to keep you're secret safe, didn't I?"

"That doesn't mean I trust you," the Lioness spoke, doubtfully.

"Then I'll just have to teach you to," the mage smiled, "I hope you're a fast learner."

* * *

On the morning of Midwinter Fesitval, Alanna awoke to find numerous presents at her bedside. More than she had ever had any year before and more than she would've expected. She looked them over and realized some were forwarded from Lady Winfred as gifts for 'Alanna of Conte.' Now, she wasn't a very materialistic person but like anyone else, she still loved to receive gifts. 

Kicking off her covers, and Faithful, she swung her feet over the side of the bed, snatching up a present that was tied with a pretty silver ribbon. Thom was currently sleeping on the ground near Alanna's bed and woke as she gave a happy cry.

"Do you even _know _what time it is?" he demanded, bitterly, rubbing his eyes.

'_And do you know I'm going to kill you for pushing me off the bed?_' Faithful arched his back, offensively.

She ignored them both and held out her new brassly polished set of bow and arrows, "Sir Myles gave it to me! Isn't it great, Thom?"

He shrugged, still sleepy, "If you're interested by all that heroism and glory stuff then, yes it is. But if you're sleepy, like _me _for instance-"

"And, look! I've gotten a new practice sword from Gary and a golden helmet from Raoul," Alanna exclaimed, tearing apart ribbons and wraps like a hungry bear that expected to find food packed within them, "Oh and Lady Winfred's given me a new squire's uniform."

She held it close to her, smelling in the soapy clean of the fabric. She also went on to open more presents from her good friends (A wonderfully carved wooden saddle from George, home made cookies from Rispah and the boys at the Dancing Dove, a set of pink handkerchiefs from Abigail, a chess set from Douglass, a book with hundreds of illustrations and battle strategies from Geoffery, and a set of magical substances from Thom.)

In the a bag labelled 'from Cythera', she had gotten a make-up kit for her Alanna of Conte and a masculine ring for Alan of Trebond. The Lioness almost felt guilty for getting two gifts from her noble lady friend since it was really meant for two different people. However, she cherished them both as a token of companionship. Yuna and Isabelle had also sent Alanna of Conte things this year, a sewn cushion and hair ribbons. It was actually pleasant to open up boxes and find women's things inside them.

One of her more elaborate presents this year was the extravagant gown bestowed upon her by her adoptive Aunt Lianne and Uncle Roald. It was a spicy forest green with a bronzed layering. The Lioness fingered it, appreciatively. It was nice, yes, but after this whole charade was over she'd never have anywhere to wear it to and that was a sorrow.

'_You might yet be surprised. You never know what you'll wear or what you'll do in the future_' Faithful clawed her arm. Alanna glared at him once and pushed him off the bed again.

When she was finally finished opening gifts from immediate friends, family, and fake family, Alanna was shocked to find she still had about thirty other unopened ones. Who could they all be from? Curiously, she went to a smaller box, inside which sat a beautiful garnet bracelet. Her mouth gaped open. Who would give her such a gift? Taking it near her hearth, Alanna held it up near the fire. The gems glittered, beautifully, as if aflame themselves. She read the note along with it.

_Dearest Alanna,_

_A beautiful bracelet for only the most beautiful of women. You will acquire much more of this bracelet's kind when you are my wife. Please take this as a letter of apology for the goings-on at Prince Ozorne's Great Ball. For truely, it is my deepest desire that we put that all behind us and continue to blossom our relationship. Expect to see me at the Midwinter Festivities because I shall look for you. You owe me far too many dances for me to let you go. _

_Love,_

_Roger_

Setting down the trinket, the Lioness stared at it. How could someone so..._wrong _have chosen such beauty? Half of her wanted to throw the bracelet away and act like she'd never received it but another half wanted to clasp it onto her arm and wear it everyday. It was so lovely that it would be a pity to waste it just because the giver of it was a complete prig.

"Who's it from?" Thom asked, picking up the note and scanning his eyes across it, "No wonder you're so pale." He glanced at the bracelet and almost smiled, "It's nice though, isn't it? Too bad you can't ever wear it."

Alanna snapped up her head and broke out of her stupor, "Why can't I ever wear it?"

Thom looked surprised, "Well, for one, our smiling friend could've enchanted it with listening spells and all sorts of tricks of that sort. Second, once you start wearing it, it almost gives him power over you. You know how the traditionalists are, sister, once a woman accepts a gift from a man, she's practically bound to him."

"You're right," Alanna admitted, sourly, "He probably charmed it so that I would feel a strong desire to wear it.

Somehow, however, she didn't think her attraction to the bracelet was merely a spell. It was probably a little bit of female wish too. Ignoring that, however, she turned back to the rest of her gifts, and reached for one.

'_Prepare to be awestruck,_' Faithful told Alanna and this time, Thom heard too, '_It's really rather funny._'

It was a nice golden chain, obviously for a lady, from Lord Wayne of Hayback.

_To the fairest Lady in all the court,_

_My heart, you never sought_

_But yet you still caught_

_I glimpsed you at the last ball_

_And it was then that I realized I had made a fall_

_For love, for passion, for heart's desire, for everything which you are_

_You had not know but I have watched you from a far_

_My entire being is your's._

_Love, _

_Lord Wayne of Hayback_

Thom made a face as he read this aloud to Alanna, while she tried on the necklace. Once they got to the line, 'I glimpsed you at the last ball', Alanna could not hold in her laughter.

"He's talking about you, Thom!" she shrieked, falling back onto her bed, giggling.

"You're just asking to be turned into a pig if you carry on that way," her twin retorted but even he couldn't help but blush.

To the siblings' great surprise, the rest of the twenty-nine presents were all also from desperate suitors, who wished to win the hand of the royal Niece. Alanna, who had hardly even talked to anyone, decided that most people were too greedy about getting a royal in their bloodline. All these young men really wanted were power and wealth that came from marrying a Conte.

But that didn't mean she and Thom didn't enjoy themseles poring and chortling over the various cheesy poems.

'_And, your eyes so blue, like the carpet in the throne room..._'

_'Roses are red, violets are blue, I really really like you...'_

'_Alanna is beautiful_

_Lovely as a rose_

_Alanna is pretty_

_Not ugly _

_Never hideous _

_Alanna is nice too_'

"It sounds like a two-year-old wrote that last one," Thom snickered, setting it aside, "Quite the admirers you have, dear sister."

"Great Mother Goddess, their poems are worse than Jonathan's!" Alanna rose from her bed, grinning, then froze.

It was then that she realized one very important factor. Jon, her Knightmaster, one of her close friends, hadn't sent her anything at all. No, she _had _to be wrong. Without even explaining to Thom, she began ripping apart her room, searching for the missing gift. He couldn't have _not _sent her something. Over a stupid kiss? No, no, no. That would mean that their fight was serious, which it most certainly was not.

"Alanna, what in Mithros' name are you doing?" Thom inquired, at the wash basin, cleaning off his morning face.

'_What you're looking for isn't there_,' Faithful told her, staring at her, unblinkingly.

"It's...not?" Alanna paused, feeling her eyes stinging.

So they weren't on the best of terms. So they argued. So they kissed. Did that mean he wouldn't even send her a card? That's the least he could've done. _She _had given him something after all. Suddenly she was infuriated with her Knightmaster and for even letting him have an emotional control over her. She was here to be a Knight, _not _a lovesick girl like Faithful had once called her.

"What's not?" Thom implored, drying his face now.

"Nothing," she responded, coldly.

If Jonathan wanted to play the game like that, then it was fine. So would she.

* * *

Queen Lianne would have a black eye for Midwinter Festival. It seemed Helena threw better punches than even she knew. Though, by now, her eye had swollen down to only the size of a small plum, it was still a hideous sight to look at. 

Alanna, dressed as her Conte self, was sitting across the table from her fake Aunt, looking down at her plate, embarrassed. The Contes were enjoying a nice family lunch before the evening Midwinter celebrations. Prince Ozorne, Varice, Arram Draper, Lord Gugal and Lady Sheila had also been invited, just to be polite. Lord Gugal and King Roald were sitting near the left end of the table. Queen Lianne, Lady Sheila, Lady Winfred were near them, whispering happily. Roger was beside them, talking to Arram Draper, socceror-to-socceror. At the very end of the table, Alanan sat surrounded by Ozorne, Jonathan and Varice.

Snuck, tightly near Jon and Ozorne, the Lioness felt extremely uncomfortable. The two Princes chatted with each other fairly well and Varice occasionally offered a thought or two. Since Alanna was officially ignoring the Tortallan Prince, she said nothing. He looked at her now and then, as if expecting her to voice her opinion on the topic. She never followed through.

"Really, I believe the University in Carthak is the best in all the Eastern Lands," Ozorne declared, hornblowing about his homeland once again.

"Perhaps that's true, but Tortall has a better set of laws for its people," Jonathan countered.

The Carthaki Prince raised an eyebrow, "You're implying about the slaves? May I remind you that we're not the only country that has slavery? What of the Copper Isles and their raka or Sarain and its K'mir?"

"I'm not saying Carthak is all to blame," Jon replied, calmly, although Ozorne seemed miffed, "King Oron and that crazy Sarainian War Lord are at fault too. I'm just saying I think slavery is wrong, wouldn't you agree, cousin?"

He looked at Alanna, who looked nothing but nonchalant, "I don't know."

He frowned at her but Ozorne and Varice didn't seem to reason. They both went on to talk about Midwinter Festival in Carthak while Alanna and Jonathan were left wondering exactly what had gone wrong with Midwinter Festival in _Tortall _this year.

* * *

The first of fifteen Midwinter Festival balls began that very night. Thom and Alanna arrived together. This time each playing the part of their actual gender. Thom was wearing Alanna's best suit, tunic and pantalons ensemble in a nice tafetta color while his twin wore the pretty gown in spicy green gifted from her royal adoptive, Aunt and Uncle. The dress had appealed to her much more until she actually tried it on. It was a little tight under the arms which made it slightly uncomfortable but she would have to get through the night, anyways. 

Nearing the festivites, Alanna distinctly heard music. One of the famous court performers had obviously gone up, front and center, and was probably singing, merrily.

_I don't want a lot for Midwinter_

_There is just one thing I need _

_I don't care about the presents underneath the Midwinter tree_

_I just want you for my own _

_More than you could ever know _

_Make my wish come true _

_All I want for Midwinter is you _

The Ball Room was spectacularly decorated. Silver wreaths and ice sculptures graced all the tables. Special, magically lit, candles were strewn about everywhere. The room had been given a rather romantic setting and everyone sparkled with happiness. Lovers twirled on the dance floor, seeing nothing but each other. The Lioness noticed Geoffery and Douglass with their regulars. The Crown Prince was also with his new regular: Helena. Gary had, however, traded Delia in for Cythera tonight and they were both beaming. Delia was with Sacharell for the first ball and was glaring jealously at Roger who was chatting with Yolane of Dunlath. Even Arram Draper was dancing with someone else, Varice.

'_Everyone's falling in love_,' Alanna thought, fleetingly before glancing at Thom and clutching his arm more tightly than before. At least she had him.

"I'm _starving_," he complained, as if on cue, "You don't mind if I leave you to grab a quick bite to eat, do you?"

She sighed, "Just go."

He'd only been gone for a minute when another Knight came up to her and requested a dance. Alanna was so surprised she declined before she had even registered the thought. He walked away, downcast. She realized he'd been one of the suitors to send her a Midwinter Festival gift. Flushing red, she decided she'd better get to a corner before she got into another situation like that again.

Unfortunately, it seemed she had somehow become the new Delia. Where ever she sat, Knights and squires would flock around her. Whether it was in the bright center of the room or the darkest corner, they'd come asking to dance. To be fair to them all, she said no each time. Most, rejected, left her side. But soon, some of the more irritating ones stuck around, chattingwith her. It seemed just talking was enough now. Alanna scowled and tried to be disagreeable. Yet the more she attempted to put them off, the more they were allured to her individual quirky speciality.

"What do you find to occupy yourself all day, m'lady?" a squire named Jason or Jerry asked, coming too close for comfort.

"I like to be _alone_," Alanna replied, not knowing how much more obvious she could be.

Apparently all her suitors were idiots who couldn't detect a war if it raged right under their noses. Jason/Jerry laughed, as did the others, amused by the lady's dry humor. The lady in question was not mutually amused.

"I really wasn't joking," she tried again, wearily. They only laughed.

_And I just want you for my own _

_More than you could ever know_

_Make my wish come true _

_Oh, all I want for Midwinter is you, you _

"I wish they'd stop singing this," Alanna muttered to herself, tired of watching people love when she was stuck between boy or girl.

"Hm?" a grisly Knight inquired, "What did you say, Lady Alanna?"

"I said, I wish someone would fetch me a drink," she fibbed through her teeth, "Then I'd dance with them."

Instantly, the two dozen young men that had been stalking her all night leapt up, racing each other for the champagne. They were fools, she realized, as she got up and went off in search of a corner of the room where they'd be less likely to find her. She settled for a spot just inside the balcony, where she was safely guarded by a large-leafed plant.

Staring at its china base, Alanna wondered just how much more pathetic she could get. Here she was, in all her youth and beauty, the prime of her life, under the cover of a stuffy palace plant! Leaning against the wall, she tried to strategise a way to get out of the Ball Room. In her room, she wasn't afraid to spring her flow of emotions wild on the world.

_I won't ask for much this Midwinter_

_I won't even wish oh I won't even wish. I won't even wish for snow_

_I'm just gonna keep on waiting underneath the mistletoe_

_I won't make a list and send it to the heavens for the Gods_

_Won't even stay awake to hear the magic children play_

"Just shut up," Alanna hissed to no one because no one was there to hear her.

Or so she thought.

"Don't like Mistress Reagan's voice, cousin dear?"

Roger. The Lioness clamped her eyes shut, trying to steel herself to be polite to him.

"It's not that, it's the song," she muttered in response, not quite mastering her manners.

He raised an eyebrow, "Not too keen on love songs, then? Strange, since love is in the air for you tonight."

He leaned, sideways, against the wall so that he could study her profile better. Alanna turned away from him, slightly, half afraid that if he looked at her for too long, he'd read all her secrets.

"For me?" she couldn't help but snort, "What makes you say that?

The Duke of Conte opened his mouth to reply but just then, a group of Knights and squires passed by, whispering, urgently, to each other.

"Where's Lady Alanna?"

"I don't have a clue! We left to get her drinks and then she was just gone when we returned!"

"Let's split up, that'll make it easier to find her."

Alanna's eyes widened as she zoned in. Was this what it was like for Cythera and Delia? Roger grinned at her, as if the young nobles had answered for him. The girl squire gulped, staring down at her palms.

'_Cause I just want you here tonight, Holdin' on to me so tight _

_What more can I do _

_Oh, all I want forMidwinter is you, oh _

_Oh, our lives are shinin', surrounding everywhere _

_Where the sounds of children's laughter fills the air _

_And everyone is singin' oh I hear those church bells ringin' _

_Mithros won't you bring me the one I really need _

_Won't you bring back my sweet to me _

The Lioness looked up and gazed at Roger's face for a second before she realized she didn't want to be with him here right now. Catching his sapphire eyes, she realized she'd much rather be with Jonathan, even though she was angry at him. She _was _angry at him, wasn't she?

"Dance with me," the Conte Duke ordered more than asked.

Alanna shook her head, feeling downcast and un-ready to face his antics, "No-will you just leave me alone?"

He was about to comment when a noble lady gathered around them. With a witness nearby, he couldn't say anything that he wouldn't have said in front of the King. The squire smirked and her unknowing teacher frowned, then left. When he was gone, the noble lady came into view. She was wearing a mask, which while unusual wasn't _that _surprising. Perhaps she'd thought it a masquerade?

What was really shocking, however, was that this noble lady came over to Alanna and tickled her around the stomach. The Lioness giggled and pulled away, dumbfounded. Who exactly was this?

Abigail lifted up her mask to reveal her laughing eyes, "Don't tell me I scared you?"

"Abby!" Alanna whispered, harshly, coming closer and looking around for people, "What do you think you're doing?"

The royal Niece slid the mask back against her nose, "Having a little bit of fun so don't get all 'Etiquette Master' on me."

"A bit of fun? What if you got caught! You're dressed as a noble but you look like my new green-eyed, chestnut haired maid! That makes you not royalty which means you can_not _break the rules!" Alanna snapped, indignantly.

"Tell that to George, it was his idea," Abigail shrugged, swishing her pink gown, prettily.

"George!" Alanna felt a sudden pang of jealously, "When did you talk to him?"

"When you weren't," Abigail replied, vaguely, "But I don't blame you. You with all your handsome followers!"

"They're annoying," the Lioness answered, her voice dry as sand on wood, "I don't know why they've taken a fancy to me."

"Probably because you're the most talked about young lady at court now after the Tea Party scandal. I have to admit I thought that was social suicide but it worked out great-,"

"Wait," Alanna raised a hand, "They like me 'cause I'm gossiped about?"

"Well not just that silly!" Abigail slapped her, playfully, "You're different from the rest too. A diamond in the rough. Oh and you don't look horrible either."

"Oh, _thanks_," the squire said, sarcastically, "I don't look ugly. Oh huzzah!"

The royal Niece pinched her side before scurried off before Alanna could retaliate. She sighed. Abby would never ever learn. Her whole life was one giant party. Shaking her head, Alanna slipped outside. Balconies had become her sanctuary of recent days. However, this time, the Lioness had not just sight-seeing in mind. Lifting her skirts, her feet were revealed, sporting combat boots.

Getting a firm grip on the railing of the parapet, she scrambled on. Steadying herself, she procceeded to climb the length of the palace wall till she reached a higher roof top. Though anyone who came onto the balcony now would see the so called 'royal Niece' clamboring up the wall, Alanna wasn't worried. In tonight's cold, no one would come out.

She reached a slanted roof and sat down on it, ruining another gown. Oh, well. It wasn't like she was ever going to wear this one again. Once she was there, she wondered how she would make her re-entrance into the ball without causing a stir. Alanna gave up on caring because it was impossible not to leave the court crowd awestruck when you were her.

Even here, the tortuous music drifted into her ears and wisped the frigid night air.

_Oh, I don't want a lot for Midwinter_

_This is all I'm askin' for _

_I just want to see my baby standing right outside my door _

Ironically enough, the door to the parapet opened. Alanna stayed still, knowing no one would see her up here. Unless they looked up, but really, it was too dark for that. Perhaps if she was lucky, she'd overhear an interesting converation. Maybe even a war story. Unfortunately, she was _not _lucky and the only voices she heard belonged to Jonathan and Helena.

'_I could just kill myself right now_,' Alanna thought, feeling the cold wet snow soak through her velvet gown.

"Tell me again why you wanted to talk to me about something, Your Highness?" Helena questioned. Alanna couldn't see her cousin but she had a great feeling that she was probably stroking his arm or something.

"Jon, call me Jon," he corrected her, "And I never said I wanted to talk to you about something."

"But you led me somewhere private which means a private chat ensues," Helena said, either smiling or scowling. Alanna couldn't tell in the dark.

_I just want you for my own_

_More than you could ever know_

_Make my wish come true_

_All I want for Midwinter is you, you, it's you, you, oh _

_All I want is you_

_All I want is you _

_All I want is you _

_All I want is you _

_You, you, you, you, you_

The wretched song finally ended with tremendous applause. Alanna was relieved and yet disturbed as she listened in closely to the talk between her hated cousin and Knightmaster.

"Well, I can tell someone's clever," Jon noted, his voice sounding happy.

Helena's laugh tinkled through the air. Even her stupid laugh was pretty, "Not really. I'm sure not clever enough to figure out what you've got to say."

The Prince took in a deep breath and braced himself, "I think I'm falling in love."

Silence. Both Helena and Alanna were utterly stupefied. He was falling in love with Helena already? She let out a quiet moan of protest than mentally slapped herself for it.

"Did you hear that?" Jon demanded.

"Hear what?" Helena whispered, probably clinging to him.

They were both still. Alanna held her breath, praying that they wouldn't discover her. Luckily, they didn't.

"Oh, Jonathan," Helena cried, sounding overjoyed, "I love you too!"

"What?" he seemed confused, "No! I didn't mean to say I falling in love with _you._"

"What do you mean to say?" Helena asked, feeling rather angry.

"I mean to say, oh, Mithros! I mean to say I love someone else," he clarified, "So...I guess that also means I'm saying that I don't think I should carry on this relationship with you."

"You're joking," Helena said, completely disbelieving.

"I'm sorry to say I'm not," Jon said and Alanna knew he was looking the Gallan straight in the eyes.

For a long time, the couple beneath the Lioness were silent, each of them disbelieving. Even the Prince couldn't believe he was falling in love. He'd never been even close to love. He never thought he would be for a long time.

Finally Alanna heard a sharp smack. For one delirious second she thought Helena had actually slapped her Knightmaster! But it turned out just to be Helena slamming the door shut as she rushed off of the balcony. She'd never have the strength or courage to slap a Prince or anyone for that matter, who she knew she couldn't defeat easily.

Jonathan, however, stayed out on the parapet, keeping his eyes closed, as if he left the weight of the world on his shoulders. Alanna knew that feeling all too well. She was feeling it now. She felt the weight of the heir to the Throne's love weigh on her because she knew he had been talking about her. She just knew. What she didn't know was what she thought of this. Was it terrifying or was it the best thing that had ever happened to her?

"Jon," Alanna called out, her throat parched. Perhaps she should've let her groupies fetch her that drink after all.

He looked around, frantically, then finally squinted up at the roof top, "Alanna?"

"What other noble ladies do you know that would sit on a roof top getting their gowns all wet and mussled?" she demanded and he laughed.

"What're you doing up there?" he implored, smiling then added more seriously, "How _long _were you up there?"

"Long enough," the Lioness answered, hinting at the 'love confession.'

"Want to come down, then?" he asked, staring up at her right shoulder since, in the black of the night, he thought it to be her face.

"No," she shook her head, telling him where it really was, "My legs are too stiff at the moment for climbing. I'll wait till they warm up."

"You could jump," he pointed out, "It's not that far. And I'll catch you."

Once again she shook her head, "I'll wait."

He frowned, "You think that I won't catch you? Because you know I wi-"

"It's not that," she interrupted, "I'm _afraid_ that you'll catch me actually."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ok, short note. I can't really say what's to come 'cause I'm not hundred percent sure but I will update usual time... 

**winky-wink**


	15. Rape

**Disclaimer: **None of this is mine. None of the characters are mine unless I make up a few fake ones here and there like Helena. Who really is sort of like a portrait of Delia of Eldorne when you think about it...but anyways, just don't sue me.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...unless I hear great roars of disapproval.

**Musical Affection: **'Si Exceptionnel' by _Andree Watters. _

(Yup, it's french. Yup, I speak french. Je parle francais.)

**Author's Note: okaliedokalie: **Haha thanks. I tried to make them sound as lame as possible.

**WitchyMage: **Aww, thanks. I know. How embarrassing for that guy, whoever it was, and Thom too. And I love how you described Abby, it is so true.

**Angel of Dream: **Hmm...how do I do it? I have no life...? LOL...joking. Um, I don't know. I'm someone who likes to have her mind challenged constantly so this is a way for it to happen. Well, they did patch her up but I'm not sure if healers can make things like go away completely. Like can they just wave their hands and have the black go normal? Maybe. Maybe not. It could be my mistake. Oo and I'm glad you liked the poems.

**charlie and lola: **I'm not hundred percent sure how many chapters this story will be. But I'm glad you like it! OO and I also really like A/J too but it's usually so poorly written I've noticed.

**Lutefa: **OH yeah! I love those moods. I get that after I read a really really good book or watch a really really good movie or, of course, a crush like you.. I'm in that mood right now lol. I totally get what you're feeling. Haha, so are you planning to tell this ex-tea party friend of yours? Do not answer that question if you think I'm intruding LOL...sorry if I seem like I am! Anyway, I'm glad you liked the chapter.

**Rosemary's Granddaughter: **Oh! Your story! I just remembered, I read it. It was very good. I couldn't exactly review it because you don't accept anonymous reviews and I didn't want to make an account that I would hardly use...so yeah, _anyways, _its got elements of an interesting story...lady knight, check. boy candy, check. princess, check. So yeah, it sounds good lol. And, very nice poem hahaha. LOL...

**alana: **It really is something he do would when you think about it. Nothing stops him on the pathway to power. And, yes, all that combat boots are part of Alanna's charm.

**Yasthira: **I have no clue lol. But it's so stupid, it's funny haha.

**Confusedknight: **Oh cool! Australia...never been there before. But I have been to the U.K. I have like...hundreds of family members there. And, thank you too.

**kristina: **Thank you. Thank you. I try.

**Queen Alanna: **Mine too. It's so adorable. No Abby and George aren't an item...and I didn't exactly plan them to be. But who knows? And, lately, she's been seeing him more than Alanna's been seeing him.

**epobbp: **Haha, yeah so intense!

**Kokari: **Hehe, yeah well enjoy! Anyways, I chose winky-wink...'cause well I don't really know. I couldn't think of anything then I just thought of the word 'wink' and made it longer I guess. Main reason: I couldn't think of anything at the time.

**Unknown reviewer: **Hi, thanks. People do notice the difference skill-wise between Alanna and Thom. I'll try to explain that better I guess. Oh and if Roger did try to do the mind reading thing, Thom could block him like Alanna does. Oh, and Roger hasn't given up. His part in this story just got sidetracked. It'll pick up in this chapter.

**FanFictionFanthom: **Yeah I liked her reaction too lol. And thank you.

Ok, at first I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do with this chapter. Then it suddenly came to me. This leaves a great door of oppurtunities for later chapters. Another dangerous Roger plot. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

'_Rape is the only crime in which the victims become the accused_'-Freda Adler

* * *

Jon laughed and it almost sounded painful after a while, "Well, if you don't come down now, you won't be able to see what I've got to show you." 

"What've you got to show me?" Alanna demanded, pushing her rump forward so she could get a better look at him. She lifted herself off the roof slightly to stop her bottom from going numb all over.

"You're Midwinter Fesitval present, of course," her Knightmaster answered, pulling a out a wrapped box about as thick as a small novel.

Relief flooded the Lioness. So he _had _gotten her a present. This meant that he wasn't unbelievably infuriated and that their friendship was null in void. After the primary relief, came curiousity. What had he gotten her this year? Last year, it'd been a nice scabbard for Lightning. But so much had happened since the previous year. The Tusaine war and all this recent mess at the palace...

Rising on the roof with a sturdy balance that most people would not have been able to manage, Alanna began to walk to the edge of the high rise as nimbly as a tightrope walker. Coming to a pillar, she grasped hold of it and slid down, delicately. The whole sight of her being so graceful was all the more impressive to the Prince since she was wearing a ball gown.

Jumping down from the balcony railing, Alanna wiped snow off her wet gown. She turned to brush her rear end, which was comically wet. She blushed, knowing what the courtiers would think if she walked into the Ball Room right now. However, she would not do that because she was already involved in enough scandals to last her a lifetime thank you very much.

Covering her combat boots with her gown, she stared up at Jonathan, looking for all the world like a perfect court lady, "You can give me my present now."

He smiled, placing the wrapped gift on the railing and sliding it towards her. She picked it up, eyeing it with a certain scrutinizing look. It was certainly wasn't heavy enough to be another scabbard but it weighed more than a simple book. Gingerly, Alanna started to unwrap the package. There was a silent tearing sound for about ten seconds before a velvety blue box was revealed. It was the royal Tortallan blue with the kingdom's emblem emblazoned on the front. This perplexed her more than ever.

Snapping open the box, Alanna's eyes were met with a necklace strung with red garnets, which, even in the dim light cast by the moon, twinkled beautifully. The garnets were shaped like drops of blood and looked so exquisite that the Lioness couldn't help but reach out a disbelieving hand to touch them.

"They're part of Tortall's crown jewels," Jon explained, pleased that he'd surprised her for once.

Alanna craned her head upwards, "Tortall's crown jewels? They're part of the royal hoard?"

He nodded then stopped, "Well, not really. Now they're your's."

"Mine...?" she mumbled more to herself than him, "But, no. You can't just give me a gift like this...can you?"

The Prince beamed, "Well if being royal didn't have some benefits around here then what else would? Anyways, it's fine with mother and father, I checked. Roger even took this necklace's sister, a garnet bracelet, to give to some lady he was courting."

So this was the necklace that went with Roger's bracelet. It was so ironic that both should end up with Alanna went in reality they were from two very different people to two very different people for two very different reasons. Still, the fake royal Niece could not help but love both presents. The red in the garnets really were her color. She stroked the necklace again, surprised that she was attracted to its feminine features.

'_Maybe I'm going soft_,' she thought with a slightly bitter smile.

Or, maybe, I'm finding middle ground. If she couldn't wear Roger's bracelet she could certainly wear this. Unless she was at social gatherings among the Tortallan court because people would wonder why she had been gifted such a present from her platonic cousin. She couldn't exactly wear it among her friends either. She was a boy to them. Lady Winfred, Abigail, Thom and Faithful were out of the question too. They would only tease for her on contexts that would make her pulse quicken and her face go red. Well, she could always wear it in the few precious moments when she was all alone. Which happened about once in a blue moon.

"Do you want me t-?" Jon started butwas cutoff as the parapet door opened.

Alanna snapped the box with the necklace shut and tried to hide it among the folds in her gown. However, her mind was racing with a sudden adrenaline and nervousness. She was sure her Knightmaster was about to say, 'Do you want me to put it on for you?' She was both glad and disappointed when the distraction of someone entering the balcony came.

It was Thom.

'_Go away,_' Alanna tried to will him, telepathetically, '_Go away now. I don't need you at the moment._'

Why was her twin always around when un-needed and not around when he was needed? He couldn't be seen for miles when all those suitors were harrassing her and now, when the one suitor she actually didn't mind was talking to her, he was bursting onto the scene like an annoying parent.

"There you are," Alanna's brother smiled at her, "I was looking all over for you. How did you escape the 'I-love-Alanna' fan club?"

"I don't know, but it would've been a lot more easier if my _escort _had been there to help me out," she frowned, crossing her arms over her chest, still holding Jonathan's gift.

"You can handle yourself fine alone," Thom shrugged, coming up to the edge of the balcony and stopping before the other two, "Hello, Your Highness."

Jon nodded and the mage went on, "Why is your gown dripping wet? Are you trying to catch an illness or something?"

"No, I am _not _to catch an illness," Alanna turned up her nose like an average noble, "I was simply...glimpsing the city of Corus from a rather unorthodox angle."

"By angle she means roof top," The Prince clarified to Thom.

The magical twin mouthed an 'o' before falling completely silent and still. The three of them looked across the night sky and far into the valley below where Corus was situated. The city glowed brightly and Alanna felt that she had never been more safe than she was now, between her tall Knightmaster and her beloved brother. Stepping towards Thom, she took his hand. He was rather shocked by her affectionate and sisterly act but tried not to show it. Clamping his own hand around her's, he smiled.

The parapet door swung open once more and Alanna decided that she really ought to stop coming here for private moments. Ball Room balconies were usually popular places for two lovers to make their secret rendevous or two traitors to conduct their treasonous talks. The only problem was that everyone else knew about the place too and access to it was open to all.

This time Roger strolled onto the parapet with Delia. They were both deep in a muffled chat. They ceased to speak and move once they noticed there were others on the balcony as well.

Alanna felt a cold sweat break out along the back of her neck. She hastened to remove her hand from Thom's, knowing what Roger was probably thinking. That she and Thom were frolicking like lovers and Jonathan had simply been around by chance. And that could very well have been possible to someone who was completely unaware that Alanna and Thom were brother and sister.

"Cousin Alanna, Cousin Jonathan,Squire Alan, good evening," he greeted them with a false smile, his eyes burning Alanna's hand.

The Lioness promised herself that she would try resume her job as a squire for at least three weeks after this incident, in case Roger intended to get revenge on Squire Alan for courting his bride-to-be. She had lied before and said that she wasn't involved with Alanna of Conte at all and now he saw them in plain view holding hands!

"Good evening," the other three chorused together, Alanna was even blushing.

"I see all of you, like me and the Lady of Eldorne here, have decided to take a breather?" he asked, trying to seem calm and not infuriated.

"Yes, it was getting a bit stuffy in there, don't you think?" Jonathan said, soothing over the moment with his charm. A type of charm that was always at his beck and call. It would be helpful when he was King.

"It looks like it was getting rather hot out here too," Delia commented, smirking as she looked Alanna and Thom over.

Roger ignored her and came over to Alanna, glancing at the box in her hand, "Tell me, Alanna dear, what is that?"

The immediate moment he asked about it, she wished she had hidden it. Her embarrassment and concern had gotten the best of her this time. It would not do so again.

"It's a Midwinter Festival present fr-," Alanna paused, wondering if she ought to say Jonathan.

"It's obviously from our Jonathan, am I right?" he questioned, without even seeming phased.

She nodded, deciding it was pointless to lie to a someone who was both a socceror and a genuis. Before she knew what was happening, it took it from her, flicking it open. She hadn't thought her grip on it was so light, but apparently it had been.

The Duke of Conte's eyes widened as he studied the contents of the box, "A relic from Tortall's royal hoard? Impressive."

The Crown Prince blushed, running a quick hand through his hair to distract himself, "It was nothing."

"Of course it wasn't," Roger's smile couldn't have fooled a blind man it was so fake, "It was nothing that you practically had to bribe Uncle Roald with a month of council duty to get it, huh? Well, in any case, you should be flattered, Alanna, that our cousin strived so hard to get you this."

The Lioness blinked. Was she flattered? Yes, she couldn't deny it. Who wouldn't be? It was also rather embarrassing to experience such a compliment in the presence of Roger, Delia and her teasing brother.

"Now you have both pieces that go with the set," the Conte Duke continued, staring Alanna straight in her imitation sapphire blue eyes as he spoke like he suspected that they were really purple.

"Both pieces?" Thom was puzzled. Jon and Delia looked like they were about feeling the same way.

"The other piece came from me. A garnet bracelet," Roger explained, unlatching the necklace from the box and holding it up to the silverly moonlight, "Very beautiful. Perfect for you, my lady."

"Oh that!" Thom looked like he was about to slap his forehead at his forgetfulness, then ceased. Roger gave him an unappraising look that showed he clearly disapproved of Squire Alan being around Alanna early enough in the morning to find out exactly what she'd received.

"Thank you for that, by the way," Alanna repeated through gritted teeth as manners required.

She wished he'd given the bracelet to Delia instead. The Eldorne girl looked like she was going to die of jealously because, not only had the Alanna gotten a garnet necklace from her ex-lover, the Prince, but she'd even got a garnet bracelet from Delia's _current _lover. Then again, maybe Alanna was glad that Delia hadn't gotten the bracelet. Such a lovely trinket shouldn't be on the body of such an ugly soul.

Jonathan was also feeling a spark of envy, but for different reasons, "That bracelet you got from the Crown Jewels was for Lady Alanna?"

He had said it was for a lady he was courting. This particular Knightmaster didn't like the thought of his cousin courting his squire.

"Yes, who's more deserving?" Roger said, his tongue as agile and slippery as a serpent's.

Alanna could've sworn she heard Delia say 'me' but when she'd looked at her, her lips were pursed together, tightly. Jonathan, for the first time in what seemed like forever, looked upset with his hero-his idol-his elder cousin.Turning Jon against Roger and upsetting Delia in one moment was wonderfully satisfying. Perhaps she ought to turn in for the night before it went sour again? Certainly, it was probable now that her gown had dried enough so that only a little bit of moisture was visible.

"Well, the time is just flying," the Lioness excused herself, tactfully. Perhaps the lady lessons were finally paying off, "And I must be flying with it. I'm sorry to say good night but I must. Farewell till tomorrow."

* * *

"Alanna! Alanna!" someone shook the female squire violently with vigour and excitement, "Wake up already, will you?" 

"Uh bluh!" Alanna protested, covering her head with her pillow as the disturber of her peace tried to shake her awake.

Abigail retaliated by pulling her blanket from under her. There was a loud thud as Alanna hit the ground. That was enough to jerk anyone awake.

Rubbing her head and glaring up the royal Niece, she demanded, "What was that for?"

"Listen to this," Abby chimed, completely unaware to Alanna's morning grumpiness, "_Dear Jessika_-oh, that's the pdseudonym I used last night by the way. Anyways, it says-_Dear Jessika. Lovely Jessika, Beautiful Jessika, I know we only met last night but even through your mask your loveliness captured my attention and my heart. I know so little about you, I know not even your home fief! But that does not stop me from loving you. If you love me too, please meet me by the southern palace sheds tonight at the eleventh hour. Love A Seeking Suitor_."

She halted her reading and looked down at Alanna, who was still on the floor of Alanna of Conte's bedchambers. The Lioness stared straight back at her, wondering what the point of her hearing that letter was. She blinked.

"So?" Abigail implored, raising an eyebrow.

"So...?" Alanna inclined her head forward to show her incomprehension.

"Do you think I should go meet this suitor or not?" Abby inquired, as if it were so obvious it had been dancing naked under the Lioness' nose.

The Lioness in question looked skeptical. Going to meet some suitor after dark didn't seem like the smartest thing to do, but then again this could only be another noble and therefore they weren't likely to be very dangerous, more certainly lovesick.

Alanna shrugged, "Go if you want."

Abigail rolled her eyes, "Typical you. Haven't you got any opinion when it comes to love?"

"Yes," Alanna retorted, "That opinion is that love should be outlawed. It's a silly distraction."

You won't be saying that once _you _fall in love," Abigail replied, stuffing her letter away in one of the room's many drawers.

"Knights don't fall in love," Alanna concluded, straightening and standing. Her knee cracked and both girls flinched at the sound.

"That's not true," Abby waved her hand, then grinned, mischeviously, "Jonathan's smitten with you. Is he any less of a Knight for it?"

"He is _not _smitten with me," the female squire shook her head, trying to hide her flushed face.

"Whatever," the royal Niece shook her shoulders, "Deny your love. I won't do the same to mine. I plan to go meet this 'Seeking Suitor' tonight."

* * *

This entire day had been strange for Alanna. She had gone through the usual squire routines. Lessons, dull and uneventful as always. Nothing out of order. Swordsplay was more so difficult, since she was so physically unfit as of late. She'd actually come close to losing a duel to Douglass, who noticed. 

However, he added, "You still did better than you have been doing for these past few weeks. It's like you've been an entirely different person."

Alanna tried to smile and failed. So, it looked like practicing swordplay with the squires and pages everyday still hadn't improved Thom's game. When this whole mess was over, she'd have to work hard to patch up her torn reputation.

"Love can do that to some people," Geoffery smirked, nudging the Lioness in the ribs. He was obviously indicating Alanna of Conte, but she was as far from her mind as were the rings of Saturn.

The most strangest thing about the day was that Roger hadn't even tried to avenge himself as the holder of his Scanran cousin's heart. In fact, all he did in the class for the Gifted was talk about the evolution of the Gift from Wild Magic. He hadn't once looked Alanna's way when he wasn't supposed to and that gave him away more than if he had glowered at her. She knew he was up to something.

Or perhaps he'd given up on Alanna of Conte as a hopeless cause and could just leave poor Alan alone? Perhaps he'd finally decided that marrying his cousin was a disgusting act and would never meet the kingdom's approval? Perhaps he'd decided to turn over a new leaf, go good, and stop trying to steal the throne of its rightful owners, King Roald, Queen Lianne and Jon?

No, that couldn't be it. He definitely had a plan. Exactly what it was, Alanna couldn't pinpoint. All she knew was that the air was smelling of something sinister brewing and she didn't like it one bit.

* * *

The eleventh hour was about to strike and many nobles had already gone to sleep. Abigal knew all the pages were still up since they were busy writing and scribing together their never ending homework. Many squires would do the same; though those that belonged to good Knightmasters could sleep soundly. 

Abigail had never felt more awake. She straightened the black mask on her face, grinning to herself. She was the exact replica of her alter ego, Jessika, the mysterious noble lady that had already won the heart of a nobleman. She was wearing a long sleeved black gown so that when she creeped out of the palace, she would blend in the inky dark night.

The night was cold and goosebumps coursed across her arms and collar. She huddled deeper into her cloak, holding it close. However, not even the winter chill could quake her excitement. She was exhilarated to have her own seperate Tortallan adventure. That was the only thing wrong with this kingdom: here Alanna of Trebond got all the attention from everyone.

She heard her name everywhere. Well, her various names. Alan of Trebond was quickly becoming a stuff for folk songs for his ghostlike hands with a sword, archery and horseback riding. Squires were jealous of him. Pages admired him. Knights and noble men respected him.

'_If only they knew the him was a her_,' Abby thought with a laugh.

But some knew. Prince Jonathan and George Cooper for example. The only people who knew she was a girl were both madly in love with her. It was almost too unfair to handle.

Not that she wasn't quickly gaining admirers. Every man at court thought Alanna of Conte was beautiful and everyone woman was jealous that every man thought she was beautiful. She'd even overheard Roger talking about her; mind you it only sounded like he was marrying his cousin as a political move. _And_, she was on the arm of their precious golden boy, Alan.

Like Abigail said, Alanna of Trebond got all the attention.

Now it was her turn. She couldn't wait till shemet up with her mystery man and had a romantic rendevous like she'd seen all those young Tortallan nobles doing lately. She saw a perfect picture of him in her mind's eye. Tall and handsome with golden hair? Yes, golden hair, and eyes as green as grass in July.

Sighing with pleasure and feeling extreme lovelust, she scurried along a palace pathway that was hardly ever used. The southern sheds loomed ahead. This whole part of the palace and its gardens were usually left abandoned and had a special kind of wild untamed beauty.

Abigail kicked her trot to a skip, feeling more and more anxious and impatient by each second that had passed. It was already past eleven. She had chosen to show up late because it was so much better than showing up early and seeming overly eager.

The abandoned southern sheds were covered in moss and had unruly vines stretching across their sides. The roof was damp and rotting, looking like it would fall over at any moment. Surprisingly enough, the doors and the windows looked sturdy and almost new as if someone had recently replaced them.

The royal Niece glanced through the windows to check if anyone was standing within already. The insides of the sheds were just as black as the outside so she couldn't make anything out; although the shadows seemed deeper in one corner in particular.

Abigail tried the door, it had been left unlocked. A last minute jolt shot up her spine. Here she was...and yet she couldn't even bring herself to open the door all the way. Leaving it ajar by just a thin crack, she stood, stockstill.

Finally, her mind forced her body to do its bidding and she threw the door open, hoping it wouldn't break, and stepped over the threshold. The door behind her hit the outer wall of the shed, bounced off it, and slammed shut. Once inside, she realized she was as good as blind inside the shed. For some reason, little to no light shone in through the windows leaving the small space cramped, dark, and almost frightening. However, Abby had a good head and didn't let it get to her. She groped in the impossible dark for a source of light. A candle...a lamp...anything.

"Let me help you with that," someone offered, making her nearly jump out of her skin. She relaxed when she realized it was only her 'Seeking Suitor.' Standing straight, she waited for him to give the room some luminesence.

An oil lamp flickered on, alighting the room with a fuzzy dim light. Abigail found herself standing closer to the 'Seeking Suitor' than she'd intended. She moved a few paces away. But he only moved closer. His hood hid his face. In a second, he lowered it. He had the strong-chinned, delicate-nosed, violet-eyed face of Alanna and Thom of Trebond.

Surprised, Abigail couldn't think straight. Her intial reaction was to back away even though that was silly, "Thom?"

It definitely couldn't be Alanna, she'd only just glimsped her asleep in Alanna of Conte's chambers so that she could wake up early tomorrow morning to go on a riding outing with some lady or the other.

The Trebond squire frowned, "No. Alan. Alan of Trebond."

Abby could not have been more confused. As far as she knew, Alan of Trebond didn't exist. He was only an allias of Alanna's so that she could become a Knight. Could this be the twins playing a joke on her?

"Alan of Trebond doesn't exist, now stop playing games Thom," Abigail was slightly irritated because she'd come here with romantic notions, notions of passion, not to get played.

"I tell you I'm not Thom," the young man pursued, "I'm Alan and I'm madly in love with you, Lady Jessika, or should I say, Maid Abigail?"

Whipping off her mask, Abby widened her eyes, "How did you know?"

"It's a bit obvious, isn't it? I could never forget those lovely green eyes anywhere," 'Alan' whispering, coming so close, his breathing was fluttering her eyelashes.

She tried to push him away but he wouldn't let her, "Love me? You're crazed."

"You must think I'm still in love with your mistress? Well, it's simply not true. Lady Alanna holds no place in my heart," Alan told her.

Abigail's head was reeling. Alan of Trebond didn't exist! Alanna of Conte didn't exist! They were all simply characters that Alanna, and occasionally Thom, brought to life because she was in need to. But this disillusioned person was under the impression that these people were real. He was under the impression that he _was _one of these people for Mithros' sake!

"Ugh, you've gone bonkers if you are Thom. If you aren't, you're still bonkers. I'm out of here," Abigail snapped, turning around and reaching for the door knob. It wouldn't budge.

"What in the name of the Great Mother Goddess is going on?" she demanded, kicking the door.

"It won't open," Alan stated, his voice going eerily still, "It won't open until we do what we've been brought here to do."

The royal Niece was afraid out of her mind, but wouldn't dare show it. Instead, she whirled around, confidently, "Oh yeah? And what've we been brought here to do?"

"Consomate our love," Alan responded, matter-of-factly.

"You're...joking," Abigail choked on her own words.

'_Please, please tell me this is a bad dream. Tell me Alanna will force me to wake up right now_,' Abby pleaded with her own mind.

"This is no joke," Alan said, clasping Abby's wrist in a death grip, "Either we do this the easy way or I force you."

Abigail's response to this was to kick this 'Alan' swiftly in the stomach, making him bend over in pain. However, by the end of the night, it would be her that would have to pay the ultimate sacrifice.

* * *

_And I just want you for my own _

_More than you could ever know_

_Make my wish come true _

_Oh, all I want for Midwinter is you, you _

Alanna couldn't believe it. That horribly cliched song was stuck in her head. What was even more unbelievable was that it was starting to become appealing to her. The words were simple and the tune had been catchy. She blanched and made her eyes open. She was met with a full on full look at the top canopy of her bed. It had the Conte emblem embroided on it in neat, tiny, stitchery.

'_I could never sew that well_,' Alanna thought to herself, fleetingly remembering when she herself had gone to a few stitchery sessions with the other ladies of court. What a boring thing to do. Being a squire was definitely better.

She stretched her arms, then sat up. A clock nearby told her it was ten thirty and if she didn't hurry, she'd miss breakfast in the Noble's Mess Hall. Not that she really cared, being a noble she could always order her servingmaid to go fetch her something to eat. Speaking of her 'servingmaid', where was that girl?

Abigail was not around, as far as Alanna could tell. She was probably with Lady Winfred or the other maids, gossiping about her trip to go see her 'Seeking Suitor' as Lady Jessika. The Lioness smiled to herself. She could just picture Abby all excited and loud, cracking everyone's eardrums as she talked about her new lover, non stop.

Alanna got up from bed, brushing away hair that had matted onto her forehead. Since Abigail wasn't around, perhaps she ought to call Winfred's maids, Carly and Lydia, to prepare her not only for breakfast but for a morning ride with Lady Resca and Cythera.

Going to her stone basin, she began to wash away the oily residue that had accumulated on her face. She was definitely not a morning person as a soft noble lady either and certainly her skin didn't behave any more better in this alter personality.

When she was done, she wiped her face off with a towel thinking, '_I wonder what Jonathan sees in me if he sees anything at all, that is. I can't exactly be sure it's me he loves, can I?_'

And how did she feel about this? To tell the complete, white, truth, she didn't know. It definitely made her tingly but was that the spark of a love that was mutual? Or was it just a feeling of adoration, a feeling of being loved that she loved?

Suddenly, Alanna wished she had a mother around to ask these sort of questions too. It was extremely unlike her to wish for things she'd never had. To complain that life was unfair was something she seldom did. Occasionally, she would crack up because it was injust that she always needed to bind her breasts and deal with her monthlies and fight off Duke Roger. But never would she complain that it was also unfair to expect her to live up to the expectations people had of boys and she didn't want to either. Life was life, after all. But having a mother would make the female side of it so much easier.

A furious banging on her door broke her out of her stupor of thought. She made a face. Who in the world was attacking her door with their fists like that? Goddess, they should learn to be a teensy bit more patient than that.

'_Ha. That's like the pot calling the kettle black_,' she thought, snarkily.

The Lioness secured the tie of her robe around her waist and went to open the door. A very frazzled Carly was standing there, her blonde hair which was usually straight and prettily tucked into a bun, was frizzy and all over the place, as if she hadn't slept in a long time.

"My lady," Carly cried in Alanna's face once she'd opened the door, "My lady your mother is calling you now! There's been an emergency."

Emergency! Thousands of thoughts and vicious taunts shrouded Alanna's mind. What if someone had discovered that Alan of Trebond was a girl? Or that Thom of Trebond was playing Alan of Trebond? What if people found out Alanna of Conte didn't exist and that it was really Alan of Trebond, who was really a girl? What if Roger had decided to...

'_Stop_,' Alanna ordered her mind, '_Stop scaring yourself._'

Shaking her head, she replied, "Take me to my mother, Carly."

The maid made a quick curtsy and led Alanna down the hall. Shutting the door behind her, the Lioness followed her in her bath robe and flat, leather loafers. Her hair was a tangle of brown red and her eyes still had last night's eye color painted on, though it was faded.

Carly and Alanna moved with speed that most other people couldn't manage. The sense of growing dread stinged every bit of Alanna's being. She just knew that the Duke of Conte was involved somehow. She hadn't even heard what had happened and already she knew.

Surprisingly, Carly wasn't leading Alanna to Lady Winfred's chambers, but to a corridor in the lower parts of the palace that she was unfamiliar with. The walls were dark down here and lighting was poor. At the end of the hall was a large wooden door, thicker than most, because it was a room for private council or private trials.

Alanna came upon it, trying to swallow the queasy feeling in her stomach. Carly politely knocked on the door, eyes red from sleeplessness and crying?

"Enter. The door is unbolted," a deeprich baritonevoice that sounded like a traditionalist of the court called through the door.

Alanna went for the door but Carly grabbed her wrist and told her, "I'm so sorry, Lady, if that's any consolation. I know how much they both mean to you."

She realeased her wrist and Alanna inhaled, sharply. She couldn't hold in the train of bad thoughts. Both of who? Was someone hurt? Was someone killed? What had happened?

She knew she couldn't find out till she opened the door, so she did. She was dumbfounded by what she saw. Most everyone she knew at court were gathered about, arguing with each other, furiously. In the center of them all, shackled and gagged was Thom. Four Knights of the King's Own guarded him like he was Tortall's number one convict or something.

When Alanna entered, the chatter died down. The court's traditionalists, Roger, Delia, Helena, Lady Catherine and a few other court personalities were debating something, fiercely, with Jonathan, Gary, Raoul, Douglass, Geoffery, Cythera, a few other ladies from court, many squires, even Arram Draper. Lady Winfred was off to one side, looking at a loss for words. In her arms, a very deranged Abigail, hidden in her servingmaid form, sobbed hysterically. She wore a black gown that had been torn apart violently and a bruise appeared on her chest, just above her right breast.

"What's going?" Alanna murmured, feeling dazed, as if this weren't really happening.

"Alanna, thank the Gods you're here!" Raoul exclaimed, setting forth, "They're trying to send Alan to imprisonment in the mines up North!"

"What?" she snapped, regaining some of her sharp composure, "Why?"

Thom couldn't go to the mines! He wasn't at fault for anything! It anyone would go to the mines for anything, it would have to be her.

Jonathan was about to reply but Roger cut him off, "For rape of another's servingmaid."

"Rape of another's servingmaid...?" Alanna trailed off, Thom would never rape anyone. Never. "That's impossible. Alan wouldn't rape anyone!"

"That's what we're saying!" Geoffery huffed, looking like he'd been doing a lot of yelling.

"Dear Alanna, you must be emotionally unstable right now," the Duke of Conte comforted her, rubbing her back but it only gave her chills, "But ask your maid Abigail. It is what she saw. I searched her mind and foundnothing but Alan. Lady Delia and Lady Helena even claim they saw him leave the scene of the rape himself."

"Liar!" Alanna cried, pushing him away. This was over the top! Thom would not go to jail for doing his sister a favor!

A heart-wrenching sob broke from Abigail's mouth and Alanna rushed to her, "Abby, Abby! Tell me, please, tell me what you saw. It couldn't have been Alan, could it?"

"Wait," Arram Draper held up a tanned hand, "Let us conduct this with magic. Why don't we let the great Tortallan socceror, the Duke of Conte, cast a truth spell on her? No one can fight its magic so we could be sure what she says is fact."

"For that we need a second mage to supervise the casting of the truth spell to see that it does not manipulate," a member of the Tortallan court hollered, red-faced and pudgy.

"I'll oversee the casting of the spell," Arram assured him, standing tall.

"And who are you to oversee our Tortallan affairs, Carthaki?" another courtier demanded, sounding outraged.

"Tyran," Arram corrected, calmly, "And, who am I? I'm a black robe."

The mage split his cloak to reveal a black robe that was gifted toand could only be worn by those precious few who were powerful enough to wield the power and skill that came with that title of Black robe. Everyone gasped. The youngest black robe to date was minimum twenty five. Arram Draper had just broken the record that Roger had set once a long time ago.

"Very well," Roger of Conte agreed, "You can oversee my casting, though I doubt you'll find any mistakes."

"We'll see," Arram's voice was expressionless as he watched Roger stand over Abby, orbing his Gift towards his fingertips. Soon, they were glowing orange. When they looked like they were about to burn the Conte Duke's fingers off, the magic began washing over Abigail, closing in a layer of truth spell. Jonathan looked on, apprehensively, apparently seeing nothing wrong about the spell.

Neither did Arram Draper. He merely nodded when Roger was finished to give his approval. The Duke of Conte turned to Alanna and bowed, allowing her to question the witness. The Lioness gulped, though she didn't know why. She shouldn't be nervous in the least bit. Roger was the one who ought to be worried because once Abigail was questioned she would reveal him for the criminal.

"Alright, Abby," Alanna started, faltering for some reason, "Who did you see that raped you?"

The once lively girl opened her mouth, eyes tearing up, "Alan of Trebond."

Alanna, and everyone else, could not believe their ears. Alan of Trebond. _Alan of Trebond. _She'd actually answered with, "**Alan of Trebond.**" It couldn't be true. She must be lying or mad or...forgetful. Something was up. Thom would never rape anyone. Not in a million years. The Lioness spun around and looked her brother in the eyes. His amethysts glittered and told her that it was all lies. Somehow someone had set him up.

The court marshall didn't seem to feel the same way as Alanna, however, because he barked, "Throw the boy in the dungeons. A night's imprisonment will do him good. We will have a full official trial on this after we gain the Crown's approval. _If _we gain the Crown's approval."

"Believe me you will," Jonathan snapped, face red at losing his argument and having his squire, if not his real one, get thrown in jail.

The four Knights of the King's Own began pushing Thom forward by the points of their swords. Alanna felt tears prickle her eyes. She didn't care if everyone saw her cry. Suddenly pride and Helena and Delia's later teasing didn't seem to matter so much. All that mattered was that her brother had tried to do her a favor and now he was disgraced and served a night in the dangerous palace dungeons.

"Alan!" Alanna shrieked, suddenly, "Alan, this isn't over! I won't let them get away with this! I'll get you out of prison!"

He shook his head at her as he was led out of the room like this was all very funny, but his hopeful smile showed that he had some faith in her capability to save him yet.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Dun dun dun! Who would've thought, hey? More drama to come next chapter, so I can't wait to write it and I hope you can't wait to read it. LOL...anyways, I hope you liked it and review, review, review. 

**winky-wink**


	16. Surprise Surprise

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...unless I hear great roars of disapproval.

**Musical Affection: **'Midnight Fantasy' by _Victoria Beckham. _

**Author's Note: epobbp: **Haha, I adore writing cliffhangers. Anyways, here's the chapter, as soon as I could get it out.

**okaliedokalie: **LOL...good. Hooked is very good.

**Dom's Angel: **Thanks and here's the chapter. I try but it's hard to keep up with my three-day-update thing.

**Queen Alanna: **No, it wasn't Roger that raped Abby.That's not to say he wasn't involved. Isn't drama great?

**Silveni: **Haha, yes, exactly. Silly and bad. I like it that way.

**Lutefa: **Aw, yeah, rape is really badd. My days have been rather traumatic lately too haha. Like Friday with soda pop and textbooks..and argh let's not get into that. Anyways, thanks for reviewing.

**Padme Amidala2121: **Yeah I guessed most people would think it was Alanna. And you're very right when you say Roger's involved. He totally is.

**alana: **I _know. _No, it wasn't exactly Roger in disguise, but he's hugely involved. You'll see...

**brokefang05: **You're right. ((blushes)) I messed up when Roger called Thom, Thom instead of Alan. I went back and fixed it haha. I'm surprised you're the only one that noticed. Kudos to you.

**FanFictionFanthom: **Yeah, that's true muaha. It _was _a major plot twist and I didn't really think of it till later.

**Angel of Dream: **Yes...or was it? Haha, you'll find out soon. Oh yeah, sacrificing quality for time is something I sometimes feel pressured to do but don't worry haha. Oh and good job on your story. ((thumbs up))

**Rosemary's Granddaughter: **Our deal stands lol. Anyways, cute picture, I bet everyone is burning with envy. I know I am.

**WitchyMage: **Thanks and that's no problem.

**skyiler: **Aw, thanks. That's very sweet.

**snowgem: **Haha, I still liked your review. Thank youu.

**RumorGoddess: **Thanks! LOL...and hang onto your life, I'm updating, kk?

**Tortall Princess: **Hehehe I really love writing cliffhangers. They're the best when you're the author...anyways, thanks too.

**Ms.NoName: **Oo thanks and I don't know, I don't mean for Alanna to get really out of character. I'll try to control that a bit more. Anyways, I try to include Catherine and Helena as much as possible but sometimes other plots within the story get in the way. ANYWAYS, thanks for getting me thinking lol.

**charlie and lola: **Aww thanks. I'm really flattered that it's actually your favb fanfic. And I'm glad my fanfic is so twisty, makes it interesting, non?

**Lady Knight: **Wow, thanks for the major compliment lol. And I try to update a.s.a.p. but sometimes I'm bad at it haha.

**Queen Alanna of conte: **Thom is innocent, so is Roger in a way. But he is involved in a way too. Confused? Just read on lol.

**Confusedknight: **Thanks and yeah Roger's very very sneaky. LOL...the one problem with vacations: no fanfic haha. Don't worry I'm a pretty big fanfiction-aholic too.

Wow, thanks for the reviews. That's a lot. I'll not to let the flattery get to my mind. LOL...But I am a little giddy with excitement. Anyways, hope you all enjoy the chapterr. **Btw, I know it's rather shorter, but whatever, I'll make up for it next time.**

* * *

'_We do not seize moments of surprise. They seize us_'-Ashley Montagu

* * *

Of all the rotten things Roger could've done, of all the ways in which he could've taken revenge on Alan of Trebond for being with Alanna of Conte, the Lioness never thought that this would be the way he would do it. She'd thought he might've tried to use the Gift, which she could've fought off with her own. Or, if she was lucky, he might've used a sword or a duel of some kind in which case she would've promptly defeated him. But, no, the Duke of Conte chose the worst battlefield in which to claim his vengence. The battlefield of laws and rules. 

Alanna knew little to nothing about the Tortallan laws, decrees, and bylaws. She was pretty much helpless when it came to getting up in front of a judge and speaking. It required research to win a case, Alanna didn't read. It required public speaking to win a case, Alanna's tongue was venemous not compelling. In the end, she had to rely on Jonathan and Gary, who were experts in this particular area, to help her get Thom out of years of imprisonment in the Northern mines.

It had been one day since Thom's arrest and he was still in the dungeons. The court marshall and the King's Own would not permit her to go see him until this evening because it wasn't 'safe.' Safe? _Safe? _Thom wasn't a convict yet! What had happened to the suspect is innocent until proven guilty?

In her frustration, Alanna kicked the leg of the table she was sitting at, earning her a look of reprimand from the old cout of a librarian. The Lady Squire scowled at his shaggy-robed back for a second, before turning back to her book. _The laws of the Human Era_. Fascinating. Not. It practically put her to sleep. She'd been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes and hadn't even gotten past the first page of chapter one.

Just as she cleared her mind and set about reading the actual book, another distraction came, this time in the form of Roger of Conte. Alanna's face went red from silent rage. She steeled herself not to run up to him and strangle the demon. Instead, she clamped her fingers around the rim of her book and pulled it up to her nose, covering her face. She didn't want Roger to see her and come over here or anything. Then she really would have to kill him.

Unfortunately, he had aleady noticed her and was stalking over. Alanna shut her eyes, urging herself not to do one thing.

_Don't kill Roger. Don't kill Roger. Don't kill Roger. Don't kill Roger._

It wouldn't look very good if she just leapt up and choked him, now would it?

"Cousin Alanna, what a surprise to see you here," Roger bowed to her.

The Trebond forced her book down and gave him a mechanical smile, "Is it?"

"Well, not many ladies I know enjoy reading up on Tortallan laws, m'lady," the Conte Duke smiled, sitting down at her table.

"Oh?" Alanna decided the less she spoke, the less likely that she would feel the need to massacre him.

A silence fell between them, in which Roger checked his nails for dirt. The Lioness pretended to read her book while watching him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he could be thinking. How could he sit there so peacefully knowing he had wrongfully thrown someone in jail?

Looking up, he sighed in a very fatherly manner, "Come now, Alanna, is all this awkwardness between us neccessary?"

"Awkwardness?" Alanna raised an eyebrow.

"I can tell you're mad at me for having Alan of Trebond thrown in prison. Jonathan's the exact same," the socceror shook his head, "Don't both of you realize this is for the best?"

"You admit he's in prison because of you," she spat, losing her polite ladylike quality, "How can this be for the best when an innocent man is in the dungeons? Tell me how you did it?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Roger chimed, annoying Alanna, "Especially not when those secrets can be used against him in court."

"Then at least explain _why _you did this?" the Lioness demanded.

Roger shook his head, like she didn't realized what was good for her or something, "Don't you understand why I did this?"

Alanna narrowed her eyes, "No, I don't, _cousin dear_."

To her great surprise, he reached a peachy scarless hand across the table and took her own pale cold one, "He was a bad distraction for you, Alanna. I needed to get him out of the picture for our marriage. Our us."

The Lioness gave a hollow, disbelieving laugh, "So, let me get this straight...Alan of Trebond, possibly one of the most celebrated squires in Tortall, is in the dungeons because you're jealous because he's with _me?_"

Roger frowned, "I wouldn't say _jealous _exactly..."

"Then what would you say, you good-for-nothing, pathetic, selfish, money-grubbing, -"

"Shut your mouth," the Conte Duke snapped, face going sour, "Speak like that when you're my wife and you'll see where you end up. You'll be lower in the ground than your dear Alan is now."

Giving her hand a tight squeeze of warning, he released it, leaving her alone. Alanna brought her hand to her chest, cradling it. This minute intereaction between her and her enemy only encouraged her to get on with the research. He would pay.

Also, in the back of her mind, Alanna couldn't help but feel guilty. It was all her fault that Thom was in prison. She was the one that had asked him to come here, she was the one that had taken his hand on the parapet as a sisterly gesture, she was the one that had scrolled Alanna of Conte all over her notebook and gotten him into this mess. Now, it seemed, the both of the twins would pay. Thom may have to go the mines and toil away finding diamonds when he should've been conquering kindgoms with his Gift. Alanna may have to marry Roger of Conte, who would eventually kill her off, that much was obvious. She shivered. Never.

"Good Morning Alanna," Gareth, the Younger, of Naxen greeted her, just getting off council duty.

Jonathan nodded towards her too and settled down at the table. Even Raoul, who disliked books as much as Alanna, had come along. Douglass and Geoffery, who would've only been nuissances since they knew little about the Tortallan law, were off scouring about the palace for gossip on the topic of the rape of Alanna of Conte's servingmaid.

"Hi everyone," Alanna tried to smile and failed, "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for coming?" Raoul blanked, "This is for Alan, of course I came."

"Listen, Alanna, we've got good news," Gary announced, getting her hopes up, "Jonathan's managed to convince Uncle Roald and Aunt Lianne to give Alan a court date. It's a week from now."

"It wasn't very difficult to persuade them," Jon shrugged, "Mother and Father like Alan."

Alanna managed a real smile, "Well that _is _good news. But a week? Is that how long Th-I mean Alan will have to be in the dungeons for?"

Gary nodded, "The traditionalists won't let him out. They say he'll escape if he's given the chance."

"What I don't get is why everyone's getting huffed up about this case," Raoul grumbled, "There have been other charges against nobles for rape of another's servingmaid and the young fellow, whoever he is, usually just has to pay the court off to get them off his back. Why is this case such a big deal?"

"Cousin Roger won't let it go," Jonathan sighed, not daring to look at Alanna, "He says it's a different situation when it's done to the help of royalty and a foreigner. Alanna falls under both categories."

Apparently Alanna had paled because Gary reached out a comforting hand and patted her back, "Don't think on it too much. It's not your fault, neither is it your maid's fault. And anyways, the squires and most Knights are in an uproar. They all say they know Alan and that he would never do any such thing. What am I saying, even the noble ladies are upset. Cythera in particular is going crazy."

"The King and Queen don't seem to be too happy either, do they?" Raoul asked, thoughtfully, "Then again, they can't really show favorites."

"I bet everyone's talking aren't they?" Alanna murmured, breathing in deeply.

"They are but we can change what they're talking about if we free Alan," Jon said, hinting at the fact that they hadn't started any research, "Alanna, can you pass me that book you're reading?"

She obliged and felt someone behind her. It was Arram Draper, dressed in his signature black. He was well clothed for the wintery days and bowed to her when she noticed him.

"Lady Alanna, Your Highness, My Lords," he said, graciously, "I've been watching you and if I may offer my opinion?"

"You may," Jonathan allowed, raising an eyebrow.

"I believe it is quite impossible to defeat Duke Roger with the law because the law is on his side. He has eye witnesses, he has the victim under a truth spell and he has great persuasion," Arram said, his voice musical, "There is only one way to beat him. Shall I suggest magic?"

"Magic?" Gary wrinkled his nose, "You mean the Gift? Why should we heed your words? Why do you want to help out Alan? What've you got to gain?"

"What've I got to lose?" the mage inquired, eyes dancing, "And, anyways, Alan is somewhat of a project of mine."

Here he looked at Alanna and she was determined to not look him in the eyes. She had a feeling he already knew she was a girl trying to be a Knight who played the parts of Alan of Trebond and Alanna of Conte.

"What do you suggest we do?" Jonathan implored, noticing the small glances shot between Arram Draper and Alanna and choosing to ignore it.

"Well, firstly, we think back. Discuss the back drop of this story. It's obvious that Duke Roger is out to get Squire Alan, but why?" Arram questioned, leaving the question in the air for the rest of them to ponder.

"I know why," Alanna admitted, blushing a bit, "He wanted Alan in prison because-erm-he wasn't pleased with the relationship he and I shared."

Everyone except Jon, who already knew about the Roger-Alanna relationship, looked shocked. Arram Draper gave a quaint cough and the other two tried to avoid looking at Alanna, since they didn't know her very well.

"One down. Now, His Grace, the Duke of Conte is a very powerful mage. He knows magic most do not. I can really think of a number of things he could've done. Why he could've even created a similicrum of Alan and had it rape Abigail. Or he could've disguised himself as Alan of Trebond and done it himself. The possibilities are endless," Arram ranted on, sounding extremely intelligent, "It doesn't really matter because, you see, that's the one default with the truth spell, it cannot decifir the whole truth, it can only decifir what the person under the spell _believes _to be the truth."

"So what you're saying is that...," Raoul looked dumbfounded, "Abigail didn't have to neccessarily see Alan for the truth spell to force her to say she did as..."

"As long as she believed she saw Alan," Arram finished for him.

"How could he have done it? Similicrum?" Gary wanted to know.

"Unlikely," the Tyran mage shook his head, "Similicrums would create an exact copy of someone yes, but they are lifeless. The similicrum can barely walk and hold up meagre conversation, let alone rape someone."

"Then Roger dressed up as Alan himself, is that what you're saying?" Jonathan raised an eyebrow, "That's not really his style."

"No, the Conte Duke is not stupid," Arram frowned, "He knew that if he did it himself, someone of his essence would be discovered on the body of the victim with one magical essence check. This is something else entirely."

* * *

Alanna picked up her skirts, lightly, as she skated across the pool in the royal forest that had frozen over during the winter. The blades of her skates gnashed the icy surface with brutality. The Lioness was furious. A full week had passed in which poor Thom had to spend the freezing days and ever colder nights down in the dungeons. Yet, Alanna's usual group of friends, which had now welcomed Arram into their ranks, were still stumped on what had happened that fateful night, not too long ago. 

Not a similicrum, not Roger. The essence check had been done on Abigail and the essence left there was of someone unknown. It wasn't Thom's essence. Some other noblility was in on Roger's plot and was actually helping him achieve his ends. There was also Delia, Helena and Lady Catherine who were constantly protesting that they had seen Alan do it even though his essence wasn't found within Abigail.

The Lioness made a figure eight, moving elegantly here than she did on the dance floor. She looked to the side of the rink and noticed that Abigail was still sitting on a snowy rock, glaring numbly at the ice. Her boots were off and the skates were half on, Alanna was afraid her toes would fall off from the cold.

"Abby!" she called to her, "Don't you want to skate?"

It really was a pathetic attempt to get the royal Niece's mind off the trauma that had recently been inflicted upon her. Lady Winfred practically begged Alanna to take her out for a day and entertain her. Make her smile. Something. But Abigail was unshakable.

"No," she called back to the Lioness, "I'm thinking."

"On what?" the young Trebond asked, although she had a very good inkling.

"My brother Lincoln," Abby replied, surprising Alanna as she skated by her, "He says he has a surprise for me in his latest letter. Wouldn't say what..."

She trailed off, looking lost and sad and homesick.

Sighing, Alanna made a quick swish with her feet and stumbled. She fell, mightily hard, on her rump. "Ow!"

Even that didn't break Abby out of her stupor. Normally, that would've made her laugh for weeks on end. Grumbling, the Lioness struggled to lift herself from the ground. After a few painful minutes, she gave up. Sitting here for a little while would do no harm. Alanna checked out her reflection in the ice beside her, admiring the pretty sapphire blue Conte eyes. She didn't exactly like the annoyingly long brown red hair that cascaded down her shoulders. It would look far more beautiful on someone else who knew how to handle it better. It was strange, though, to see herself look so different all because of one simple potion.

Potion. Change the way you look. Abigail. Rape. The young Trebond's head shot up and her eyes widened. She felt like she was having a sudden epitome. _Of course! _It suddenly made so much sense. Roger had used the potion to dress himself or rather someone else up as Alan of Trebond. That is, if you could actually use that particular type of potion to become identical to one person in particular. Who knew? She could always ask Eleni, but already Alanna was half-assured she had just saved Thom.

"Abby!" she cried, getting up from the ice with a sudden speed and agility, "Guess what?"

She clanged towards the royal Niece, happily. Abigail looked up and almost smiled at the amusing sight. Peeling off her skates, she stuck her feet back into her boots. She knew she wasn't going to skate anyways.

"What?" she asked because she was required to.

"I've found a way to save Thom!" Alanna declared, triumphantly.

Abigail's face darkened, "Oh. Good."

Suddenly all of Alanna's giddiness was drained away, "Oh good? You act as if it would be a good thing if Thom was stayed in the dungeons."

Abby shrugged and the Lady Squire plomped down in the snow, beside her, "You do know he's innocent, don't you?"

Lady Winfred had recently decided that she believed that Thom was innocent and that he'd been framed. Even though Abigail had said nothing, Alanna thought it was a given that she believed her twin was wrongly accused too.

"I don't know, Alanna...," she sighed, "He was there. Or at least it looked a lot like him. I just...it felt so much like it was him."

The Lioness opened her mouth to argue, then decided against it. What good was it to upset Abigail when she was already torn up inside her very being? Trying to be a good friend, Alanna offered to take her to a knight duel. There were some going on today in the practice courts. That seemed to cheer the royal Niece up since she'd seen nothing of the sort since her arrival in Tortall.

In about two minutes, they were outside the courtyards. Dozens of young nobles were going in, excited to see a battle. Abigail stuck close to Alanna's side and when they entered all eyes fell upon them. There they were, Alan's love and the servingmaid he was accused of raping. The Lioness put a protective arm around her servingmaid's shoulders even though it was unladylike and most certainly un-noblelike.

They came to lean against a railing as the first duel began. Alex of Tirragen against Imrah of Legann. They bowed to each other, then began. Even though Alex's usual duelling partner was absent, Imrah made the match surprisingly even. The two young ladies watched the way they moved with awe and a frightening interest on Abigail's part. Alex moved vigorously, quickly-quicker than anyone she'd ever seen...or had she? In the end, his talent won out over Imrah's and there was a roar of approval and applause.

The Tirragen Knight bowed, grinning. A few squires came forward to help him remove the padded armor. Even in the heat, he had sweated through the battle. His tunic stuck to the pads inside the armor and most every noble lady relished in the fact that they had glimpsed his smooth, wry, body as his tunic flipped up, slightly, to reveal his chest and stomach. A stomach with a healing bruise on it. Like he'd been punched in the stomach. Or kicked.

With a scared memory, Abigail clutched Alanna's arm, "That dark-haired Knight-he's Alexander of Tirragen, is he not?"

"Yeah," Alanna nodded, not really interested, "Would you mind relenting on my arm? Ouch. Hey, why do you look so frightened? You look as if you've seen a ghost or something. Or-she paused-Abby, it's not Alex is it? It wasn't Alex that, you know?"

Her voice had dropped to a whisper. Abigail numbly nodded, staring at Alex like he was a mythical creature like a dragon or something. Could it really be that Alex of Tirragen had raped Abigail? Had he changed so much? Had he sunk that low? Alanna gritted her teeth, she hated what Roger had done to him. He'd as well as killed him.

'_I've lost Alex,_' she thought, feeling a strange sort of sadness, '_He's as good as dead to me now._'

"Alanna," Abigail choked out, "Please, get me out of here."

The Lioness obliged, forcing salty tears out of her angry eyes.

'_I've lost a friend..._'

* * *

"Alex? Of Tirragen?" Raoul repeated, blinking a few times, "Our Alex?" 

Jonathan nodded, "It's what the maid, Abigail remembers and it's what Alanna claims. She says Roger probably got him to take a potion that would morphe his apperance to replicate Alan's."

"How did you figure this all out? The potion part that is?" Arram Draper demanded to the Lioness.

The young Trebond gulped, "Erm...I've known people who've taken it. Is it possible to do with such a potion?"

"Very much so," the mage nodded, rubbing his chin, "I never would've thought it. This time of potion is usually something noble ladies use to lengthen their hair or hide blemishes, it isn't known to be used for transforming people entirely. But it can be done. It was ingenuis for you to have thought of it, my lady."

Alanna's face flushed. She felt guilty for being called so smart and intelligent when it was only by fluke that she'd thought of it. They were lucky that they'd managed to gather all the information leading to Thom's trial just in the nick of time. His trial was this afternoon and they had about three hours to prepare a proper statement about why he was innocent.

"I can't believe Alex would just let Alan take the blame," Gary shook his head, "He's changed more than I thought."

Upon hearing the latest information they had, Jonathan, Gary and Douglass set about writing something up that was at least somewhat presentable. The rest paced about wondering what they would say and what they would do. Arram Draper was muttering to himself, thinking over what he'd say to the traditionalist jury when he was called up to be a witness. Alex would already be there so they had no need to worry over whether or not he would be there. He usually followed Roger where ever he went as of recent days.

Alanna hated him more than ever and couldn't wait to see his face when he got convicted of raping Abigail. Faithful rubbed against her ankles, comfortingly and the Lady Squire looked down at him, lovingly. She picked him up and cradled him close.

"This trial is going to be an interesting one," Alanna told him, almost grinning at the revenge that was to be her's.

_'Yes,_' Faithful purred, '_But I think what's going to happen _before _the trial is even more interesting._'

Alanna made a face, wondering what the godly feline was talking about. However, she knew it was pointless it ask since Faithful wasn't about to answer. He thought it would make life too easy for her.

'_Ha,_' she thought, perilously, '_My life has no chance of becoming even remotely easy_.'

* * *

A surprisingly and heart-touchingly large group of people headed to the trial in support of Squire Alan before the second hour rang. Alanna had to admit she was intensely warmed that all these people had come because they refused to believe Alan of Trebond had raped anyone, even if all evidence pointed that way. 

The Lioness walked ahead with Jonathan and Arram Draper on either side of her. Lady Winfred and Abigail had decided to go off ahead, so they were already in the Court Room, preparing themselves mentally for the excruciating trial that was to come.

From within the crowd, someone poked her back. She turned around, wondering who it could be. A hooded figure grinned at her. A toothy grin she had come to adore...George!

"Cooper!" she cried in an excited whisper, "What're you doing here?"

"Hidin' from my Lord Provost," he responded, snarkily, "And 'ere t'support Alan o' Trebond, o' course."

"Thank you," Alanna mouthed, truely overjoyed to see him there even though he could just as easily get caught. Then again, he _was _George Cooper, King of Thieves. Who knew? The Lady Squire blended back into the front of the crowd with the Prince and the foreign mage.

"What think you of our chances to win?" Alanna asked, forgetting to walk small and gliding like a proper lady and switching to full on manly strides.

"The battle is won," Arram said with such confidence that it made the Lioness feel reassured too.

They came back down to the lower parts of the palace, where the lights were dimmed and the dust loomed on every surface. It was a very gloomy place for very gloomy occasions. This was the same place someone else had probably been sentenced to death or life in the mines or worse. Who knew? But this one time, someone would get off clean.

As they came upon the lower ground door, Alanna noticed someone standing near its large wooden front, casually hanging about. The squire-made-lady squinted. Who _was _that? One that seemed so utterly unaware of the grave trial to follow? He looked like a traveler, someone who had just come from far away. His boots were stained and the ends of his long cloak were flecked and tinged with sludge. His hood was ragged and bits of shaggy black hair that pulsed through looked uncombed. Truthfully, he looked more like a bandit than a noble.

He straightened at the coming procession. The Lioness felt worried when she drew closer to him for some reason. Although, she ought not to. Who was safer than her? She had knights and squires all around her and hundreds of ready witnesses. No, she was perfectly safe.

It was then that she remembered what Faithful had mentioned. Something interesting happening before the trial? Could this man possibly be it? Speaking of the thing, was it a good thing or a bad thing? No, her cat would've warned her if she was in danger, right?

As they came upon him, he threw back his hood, grinning, "My, my, what a crowd."

The face of this stranger was shocking. He had shaggy black hair that was just an inch above his shoulder. That wasn't too exceptional. But his eyes, Mithros, his eyes were that of a deep Conte blue. His face structure was handsome and while he wasn't twin-faced to Jonathan as Abigail was, he was obviously related. A long scar ran along the length of his left cheek and, instead of ruining his appearance, it made him all the more attractive.

"Cousin Lincoln?" Jonathan sounded disbelieving, "Don't tell me it's you!"

"Tis, Princie, 'tis!" Lincoln laughed, throwing himself on his royal cousin, "You don't know how good it is to see you!"

"It has been too long!" the Crown Prince agreed, smiling now that he was over his intial shock, "What're you _doing_ here?"

"I'm here to surprise my mother and sister. They've been away too long and I yearned to see them," Lincoln explained, "Where is my sister anyway?"

Alanna wanted to shrivel up and die. By the Black God! Lincoln would ruin everything! He had no clue about the mess and tangle of lies that had sprouted up over the weeks. He didn't know his sister was a servingmaid and that a she-male was pretending to be his sister. Alanna should've known this was going to happen! Abby had said that Lincoln had suggested a surprise for her...but not this! Even Faithful had hinted at it, but she had been too caught up with Thom and his trial to realized it. Perhaps she could escape yet...

"Here she is!" Geoffery revealed her with a shout, "Here's your sister!"

Alanna wanted to slap him upside the head. Grr...

"Where? Let me get a look at her," the royal Nephew demanded, eyes searching the crowd. He passed over Alanna which surprised everyone.

"Right here, my Lord," a freckle-faced page tugged his sleeve and pointed at Alanna.

Lincoln looked her up and down, completely and wholely confused, "You're not my sister."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I _know_. How much worse could it get, you ask? Well, looksie! Haha, anyways, next chapter should be up soon so you won't have long to wait. **_Next chapter...let's just say two people are found innocent of something, another is convicted of something else, and someone is thumped over the head._**

**winky-wink**


	17. Trials and Tribulations

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...unless I hear great roars of disapproval.

**Musical Affection: **'Teenage Dirtbag' by _Weatus. _

**Author's Note: RumorGoddess: **It would seem so, anyways I hope you enjoyed this.

**dumb and jaded: **Good. Yeah and I don't ever plan on keeping you guys hanging for a long period of time.

**FanFictionFanthom: **I love being good at cliffhangers and twists. It really pleases me to know that I keep you guys hanging on by a thread lol.

**Queen Alanna of conte: **Yeah, the more people that come, the more confusing it gets.

**WitchyMage: **I know, I didn't make it seem as if it would be Alex until like last minute. And yeah, Lincoln complicated a lot of things lol.

**Lutefa: **OoOo Latin, that is so cool. And, yeah, Alex and Roger are both horrible in this fic. Also, nice guess on how they're going to get out of this, unfortunately it doesn't work out that way.

**Tortall Princess: **Thanks! LOL...we'll see how much damage Lincoln does..

**Silveni: **They can convict anyone, but would they? You shall see...oh and yeah I guess Lincoln isn't really Tortall-ish. I dunno it sorta came to me in earlier chapters so I just kept the name. Who did you hope got thumped?

**Confusedknight: **Wow, thanks so much. Lol, yeah, Alanna is lost. She's not exactly awesome at this sort of thing. And, yes I do have msn. Goes with my email on my profile. Anyways, thanks again.

**epobbp: **Haha, heres your update. And yeah! I hate people who take years to update, literally! One of my most favourite Tortall authors does that! It is so annoying!

**everlynstia: **Thank you, thank you. You're too sweet.

**elsepethana: **Yeah, I love the my fair share of cliffhangers. Oh, you got a story? I shall go and check it right after I post this chapter. And cool new name! ((thumbs up)) Oh and thanks for the review too.

**Lady Knight: **Thank you. I'm guessing it would've been extremely hard to figure out. Especially since I didn't give too many clues.

**Rosemary's Graddaughter: **Haha, funny line. Anyway, I don't know what else to say because I usually don't understand the majority of your review to tell you the truth. Not that I mind.

**Saphron: **Hey...and wow thanks a lot. I don't really know what to say, that's probably one of the best compliments anyone's ever given me. Oh and thanks too for the advice to get more involved in writing. I'd _really _love to take a class at a community college but I guess I'll settle for just a basic class since I'm fourteen right now. But thank you so much once again.

_**Sorry if this chapter got out late... was being stupid.**_

* * *

'_Each morning puts a man on trial and each evening passes judgement_'-Roy L. Smith

* * *

It seemed as if everything was happening at once. Five men, who looked suspiciously like some of Alanna's friends from the Dancing Dove dressed up as noble men, pulled out their swords and daggers. Women screamed and many pages and squires did the same, even though they were supposed to be Knights someday. The Lioness noticed some lady near her fall into a dead faint from the shock and others gasped. George rushed forward, his hood falling down around his shoulders. He took his dagger and smashed its hilt against Lincoln of Conte's head. The shrieking that followed was so deafening that Alanna had to cover her ears.

Two of George's men lowered their weapons and picked Lincoln up from the marble floor. No one dared try to save him because no one else had thought to bring their swords. From the other side of the great wooden door Alanna heard chairs scraping and knew that nobles and Knights of the King's Own were due to burst though it at any given moment. Amidst the chaos, she scurried to the door and held the knob, holding everyone in.

"Geor-," Jonathan tried to speak with the King of Thieves but was cut off when the Rogue held his knife to his throat.

"Do not trifle with me, Your Highness," George warned, sounding as if the two had never met before.

The Crown Prince looked awfully confused for a second before understanding. To every noble in the crowd, it would seem suspicious if they _had _met before.

Playing along with the charade, Jon said, coldly, "You'll never get away with this, you vulgar brute."

The Lady Squire's fingers clenched over the doorknob as she felt Knights struggling to barge through. Fortunately, her grip was firm. But even Alanna had to admit, this was a rather difficult task with long noble lady nails.

George gave his secret friend a toothy grin, "We'll see, my Prince."

Hollering orders to his men, he raced off, carrying the royal Nephew with him. The boys of the Dancing Dove knocked over china vases and crystal statues along the way to the great disgust of the nobles in vicinity. Once they'd turned the corner, Alanna decided that that was enough of a headstart. She released the doorknob and was practically trampled by six Knights of the King's Own.

Leading them was Lord Issac, who almost dropped his sword on Alanna's head. "My lady! Forgive me!"

Before she could reply, he had snatched her up by the elbow and was shouting at his men, "You fools! You idiots! Can you not watch your path? You almost crushed the King's own niece!"

"My Lord!" a squire, who was still red-faced from screaming, cried, "They've kidnapped Lord Lincoln!"

"Lincoln? Of Conte?" the Commander of the King's Own demanded, face scrunched up in thought.

"The very same," Jon assured, "They've kidnapped my cousin, Issac."

"Your Highness, we will stop at nothing to save him," Issac responded, giving Alanna's knightmaster a great, flourishing, bow, "But, may I ask, who are 'they'?"

Lord Provost, who had come out of the court room behind the own, said, with an almost smile, "This looks to be the work of public enemy number one, my old friend, George Cooper."

"The King of _Thieves?_" Cythera asked in distress, "He was _here?"_

"So it would seem," Lord Provost rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, "How does he do it, I wonder?"

Alanna and Jonathan glanced at each other and quickly looked away, lest they look overly mysterious.

The Prince coughed, "My Lords while this is all very interesting...we all came here for a very important reason."

"Very true, Your Highness," Lord Provost agreed, "Lord Issac, we all make our entrance to the Court Room. I believe you and your men shall go off in search of George Cooper and his cronies?"

"But what of Alan of Trebond?" Issac demanded, looking hesistant to miss such an interesting trial just to run off and save some half-Scaran.

"I highly doubt Alan of Trebond will get savage and need to be guarded," Provost said, sternly, although the corners of his mouth twitched.

The young blonde Knight merely shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. He barked at his men to look alive and they were off. Alanna watched them go, extremely amused. The day that Issac out-smarted George and found Lincoln was the day that she'd actually be good at ball room dancing.

Lord Provost went into the Court Room and inclined for everyone else to follow. All the nobility did, staring curiously at Alanna, Jonathan and Arram Draper. The Lioness sensed that some of them recalled clearly that Lincoln had confidently stated that she was not his sister. Arram, was one of them. He kept stealing frowning glances at her, as if trying to solve her or something.

"Thank Mithros, George just saved us," Jonathan whispered to Alanna so quietly that she was the only one who could hear, although almost everyone other court gossip wished they could too, "At least Lincoln isn't around to spur questions. Not now at least."

The young Trebond gulped, hoping the questions would never come. She was instantly distracted when she noticed Thom, who looked worse for the wear. His red hair was in tangles from being left uncombed for a week and his nose was dripping from a cold. His squire's uniform was folded but overall not too horrible. His expression was nonexistant.

Alanna came to the first pew and sat down beside Abigail and Lady Winfred. Across the aisle from them sat Roger and Alex, who was secretly polishing a blade. Delia and Helena sat with each other, near Lady Catherine who shot Alanna a quick glare.

"My Lord Provost," King Roald, who was also attending this most fascinating of trials, called out, as they entered, "Would you care to enlighten us on what happened just outside our doors?"

"Nothing to worry you, Your Majesty. The King's Own is on the case," Lord Provost replied, placing his hands together as he took his place on the jury.

There were fourteen members of the Tortallan royal jury, Lord Provost, Sir Myles, Duke Gareth, Duke Baird, and about ten other respected members of Court. King Roald and Queen Lianne were also present and would be allowed to give an opinion on the issue, although their word was not veto in this case. Duke Roger, who was normally part of the jury, was taken out of it for this particular case since he was already so heavily involved in the conviction.

Alanna felt twitchy, knowing there was very little she could say or do now, unless she was called up to be a witness. Most of the case was left in the hands of Arram Draper and Gary. Jon couldn't do much either since he was a Prince and it was bad for him to show favourtism. The Lady Squire glanced across the aisle and caught Roger's eye. He gave her a steely smile and she looked away, curling her hands into fists in her lap.

Beside her, Abigail was also curling and uncurling her hands, not daring to look up lest she catch Alex's eye. Perhaps the arrival of her brother would cheer her up, she'd been so down lately. Alanna squeezed her shoulder, supportively, hoping it would make her feel better because it made the Lioness feel better, slightly.

The court marshall looked to the King once everyone was settled in the pews. Roald nodded, bobbing his head, "Let the trial begin."

"Duke Roger, you may bring your prosecution forward," the court marshall said, hand on the gavelling as if he was expecting that he'd need to use it a lot.

Roger gave a charming grin and stood, shuffling a few scrolls together and setting them on a table in front of him, "Well, good men and women of Tortall, this case has only one obvious outcome when you study the facts. But let's start from the very beginning, a week and a day ago on the night of December fifteenth, the servingmaid Abigail attends the very first Midwinter Festival Ball disguised as a noble lady. The next morning she somehow received note that a young noble man attending the Ball glimsped her and wished to see her again. So, the next night, on December sixteenth, she goes to meet up with him at the southern sheds, which have been abandoned for years. Only a regular of the Tortallan palace would know that-"

"Objection," Arram Draper interrupted, causing Roger to stop and everyone to look at him, "Not only a regular of the Tortallan palace might know that. Anyone could. I did and I'm not even from this country. The defence wishes the Duke of Conte to withhold his presumptions."

The court marshall nodded, eyeing Arram with a certain respect, "Objection stands."

Roger tried to smile at being slighted, but it only came out as a grimace, "As I was saying, Abigail went to meet up with her admirer. To her great dismay, that suitor had rather more physical than emotional notions in mind. After he raped her, he ran off, thinking she'd tell no one. Abigail, on the other hand, went straight to my Aunt, Lady Winfred and told her everything, which is why we're here now. But, you all must be wondering who said rapist is? To answer this, I would like to call up Maid Abigal to the stand."

Abby snapped her head up, not expecting to be called up. Winfred gave her an encouraging push and she stood up, shakily. Pushing her hair out of her face, she began to make her way to the witness stand. Alanna crossed her fingers, praying that Roger wouldn't eat her alive, especially now that she was so weak.

Once Abigail had been sworn in, in the name of Mithros and the Great Mother Goddess, Roger began his questioning, "Tell me, Abigail, were you at that ball?"

"Which ball?" the royal Niece inquired, raising an eyebrow, and sounding stronger than she had in days.

"The very first Midwinter Ball," Roger clarified, looking her up and down, haphazardously.

"Yes," she admitted, not looking at all ashamed, although many nobles in the crowd gasped.

"Tell me, tell us all, why did you go?" The Conte Duke demanded.

"I was...bored with life," Abigail replied, speaking half the truth, "My mistress goes everyone and just once I wanted to go somewhere too."

"I see," Roger kept shooting knowing glances at the jury, as if they were keeping exactly what he was thinking, "Now, when you got your note, did you tell anyone about it?"

Abby caught Alanna's eye and looked away, fast, "I told my mistress."

"Lady Alanna of Conte?"

"Yes," she nodded, biting her lip.

"And what did she say? Was she aware that you went to the Ball?" Roger demanded, asking careful questions, not really wanting to get Alanna in trouble too.

"No, she didn't know that I was planning to go to the Ball," the royal-turned-niece assured, "When she found out, she reprimanded me."

Alanna remembered the brief conversation she had had with her fake servingmaid at the ball for which she considered a reprimand.

"_Abby!" Alanna whispered, harshly, coming closer and looking around for people, "What do you think you're doing?"_

_The royal Niece slid the mask back against her nose, "Having a little bit of fun so don't get all 'Etiquette Master' on me."_

"_A bit of fun? What if you got caught! You're dressed as a noble but you look like my new green-eyed, chestnut haired maid! That makes you not royalty which means you cannot break the rules!" Alanna snapped, indignantly._

"That sounds reasonable. So it wasn't Alanna's fault that you went to the Ball?" Roger implored, wanting to clarify it for the jury.

"No, not at all," Abigail whispered back, staring at her lap.

"Ok, Abigail. Would you care to enlighten us on what happened when you told Alanna about this note from an admirer?" the Conte Duke demanded, leaning against the stand in which Abby was sitting in.

_"Do you think I should go meet this suitor or not?" Abby inquired, as if it were so obvious it had been dancing naked under the Lioness' nose._

_The Lioness in question looked skeptical. Going to meet some suitor after dark didn't seem like the smartest thing to do, but then again this could only be another noble and therefore they weren't likely to be very dangerous, more certainly lovesick. _

_Alanna shrugged, "Go if you want."_

The Lioness almost wanted to slap herself silly when she remembered what she'd said. She should've stopped Abby from going. She should've trusted her gut feeling, her intuition. Instead, she had thrown caution to the wind and now here they were, in a dank puddle at the bottom of a well.

"She told me it was my decision if I wanted to go or not," Abigail replied, "So I went."

"So you went," Roger repeated, "And when you got to the sheds, who was there? Who did it look like was there?"

"It...it looked like it was Alan of Trebond," Abigail forced out of her mouth, "But-"

Roger of Conte spoke over her, repeating in loud tones, "It looked like it was Alan of Trebond!"

The jury, who had been twirling their quills and mere observing until now, promptly began scrawling notes across their scrolls. The Duke of Conte grinned in response, turning back to Abigail, "And what did Alan do?"

"Objection!" Gary cried, getting heated, "He can't just start calling the rapist, Alan, just because it _looked _like Alan!"

"Objection stands," the court marshall sighed, knocking his gavelling.

"Fine, _fine_," Roger rolled his eyes, "And what did the rapist do?"

"Raped me, that's all," Abigail replied, eyes blank.

"Didn't you try to fight him off?" the socceror inquired, checking his nails for dirt again.

"I did kick him in the stomach, but he overpowered me," Abigail's voice quivered and cracked.

Roger gave her an empathetic smile, "So he was probably in good shape, am I right? I ask the jury, who is in better shape than a squire? Squires train everyday and are-"

"Objection!" Gary cried again.

"Objection overruled," the court marshall dismissed him, "Go on, Duke Roger."

"Yes, erm, where was I? Oh yes, squires train everyday and are taught the art of wrestling. Servingmaids are not. It would not be difficult for a squire, even a small one, to overpower a servingmaid. Is that correct, Duke Gareth?" Roger asked the head of the squires and pages.

Duke Gareth shifted in his seat, looking displeased, "It is correct."

"Good. Now, dear jury, I have the maid professing that the rapist looked like Alan of Trebond. I have witnesses who claim to have seen Alan of Trebond exiting those very southern sheds on that very night and I even have proof from the head of the squire regime claim that it is possible for Alan of Trebond to overpower Abigal. What more can I say? I rest my case," Roger bowed and went to his pew.

"Does the defence have any questions for the witness before they bring their side of the story forward?" the court marshall demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, we do," Arram Draper stood up, brushing off his black cloak.

The entire court followed his movement with their eyes, wondering how he'd save Alan of Trebond's hide now. He went to Abigail, giving her a rare smile.

"Tell me, maid, do you disagree with anything that Duke Roger has said?" Arram questioned.

"No," Abby shook her head.

"Me either," Arram agreed, "Now, have you ever worked for anyone other than Lady Alanna?"

"No," Abigail replied once again.

"But you must've seen many other ladies and done little things for them here and there, right?" the Tyran asked.

"Objection," Roger called out, "What has this to do with case at hand?"

"Your honor, this truely does go somewhere," Arram said, before the court marshall could speak.

The marshall looked Arram up and down, then said, "Objection overruled, for now."

Arram smiled, "Now, back to you. Can you answer my question?"

"Yes, I have done things for other women of court," Abigail nodded, looking dumbfounded.

"Then you must've seen very strange beauty treatments, no?" Arram posed question after question.

"Yes, I have," Abby admitted, twisting her hands together.

"Have you ever seen women use a beauty potion?" the mage inquired.

Abby nodded, vigourously, "The magic kind? Yes."

The jury and the audience looked intrigued. Alanna shot a quick glance at Roger, who's face had lost its smirk. Beside him, Alex of Tirragen gulped. Delia leaned foward from the pew behind them and whispered something, furiously, into Conte Duke's ear.

"Alright, thank you, Maid Abigail," Arram beamed at her, "Now I'd like to call to the stands Eleni Cooper."

The Lioness twisted around in her seat, watching Eleni walk up to the stands. She hadn't even realized Mrs. Cooper was here! George's mother looked rather nervous at being here amongst all these snooty nobles, although she walked with an elegance that most could not manage. Roger watched her go up, face still cool but Alanna thought she might have noticed beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Now, Mrs. Cooper, you make beauty potions, am I right?" Arram Draper demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Quite right," Eleni nodded.

"Who is your main clientelle?" Arram questioned, looking her straight in the eye.

"Ladies of the Tortallan court," Eleni responded, brushing her bangs out of her face.

"I see. So could anyone at court, anyone here, find easy access to a specific beauty potion to meet their needs?" Arram implored, gesturing with his hands.

Eleni nodded, "Very easy access."

"Now, these particular beauty potions are usually used to cover up blemishes, lengthen hair, change its color, change eye color or even your bone structure for some who are drastic. But could it be used to create an exact replica of someone? Could someone use it to, let's say, look exactly like someone else?" Arram asked, eyeing the jury, whose quills were moving faster than a hummingbird's wings.

"Yes. It's been done before, so I can't see why not," Eleni answered, her hands neatly in her lap.

"Thank you, You may go," Arram dismissed her, then turned to the jury, "As you can see, all of Duke Roger's eye witness accounts mean nothing if the supposed rapist only _looked _like Alan of Trebond. We cannot be one hundred percent sure, can we? Finally, I'd like to call up Alexander of Tirragen to the stand."

Shocked whispers broke out throughout the audience. Why was he calling up Alex of Tirragen, who's name hadn't been mentioned in part of this case until this very moment? Alex looked nonplussed and went up, silently.

"Hello Knight of Tirragen. Now, tell me, were you at the first Midwinter Ball on December fifteenth?" Arram demanded.

"Yes, everyone saw me there," Alex nodded, rubbing his sweaty palms against his breeches.

"Were you aware that the servingmaid Abigail was there too?" Arram raised an eyebrow.

"No, of course not," Alex said, trying to sound offended.

"I see. Well, did you hear Abigail say that she tried to defend herself against persuer?" Arram questioned, "Yes? Well, then, you must've also heard your ex-Knightmaster, Duke Roger, say, 'Who's more capable to overpower a poor maid than a squire?' Wouldn't you agree that a Knight is more capable?"

"I suppose...," Alex trailed off.

"Wouldn't you, Your Grace?" Arram turned to Duke Gareth.

Gareth, the Elder, smiled, "Yes I would."

"Just as I thought. Now, you also would hear that Abigail said she managed to get in a kick of her own. She said it hit the stomach of the rapist," Arram Draper explained, "Would you care to show the entire court your bruiseless stomach and therefore your innocence?"

"Objection!" Roger spluttered, "There was no warning of this!"

"What warning do you need if he's innocent? I just want to see his stomach," the Carthaki mage retorted, eyes flaring.

"Objection overruled," the court marshall agreed, "Show us your stomach, young Tirragen."

It was as if Alex was being sentenced to his death. He got extremely pale, but reluctantly stood. He took off his cloak. Then his coat. Then his doublet. Alanna could almost feel the anticipation in the air. Bruise or no bruise? He unbuttoned his shirt and there, just to the right of his belly button, a fading purple bruise. The entire court gasped. King Roald and Queen Lianne looked at each other, shaking their heads.

"A bruise," Arram noted, quietly, as if shocked himself.

"Objection!" Roger hollered, "Alex is a Knight! He could've gotten that bruise anywhere throughout this week!"

"Actually, I have twelve witnesses present here today, including Alex of Tirragen's own mother, who can vouch that he was never off on any Knight duties at all throughout this week. Since it is Midwinter Festival week, hardly anyone has been doing any work," Arram Draper snapped back, "Would you care to interview them now?"

"Objection overruled due to evidence now given," the court marshall declared, "I believe the jury has seen and heard enough from both sides?"

Sir Myles of Olau stood, coughing a bit, "Yes we have."

"Then let the jury go into deliberation. Shall we give you the better part of an hour?" the court marshall asked and when Myles nodded, he hit his gavelling three times, "Court ajourned till the fifth hour."

Immediately, everyone rose. Alex quickly came to Roger and he, Delia, Helena and Lady Catherine left the Court Room has rapidly as humanly possible. Alanna watched them go, knowing they were under hot water. Arram came to them and Alanna couldn't help but hug him. He looked surprised but managed to pat her back in mutual thanks.

The Lioness watched Lord Provost lead Thom back somewhere, although this time it didn't look like the dungeons. She had hope that they'd won this case. It had gone more smoothly than she'd thought possible and it was all thanks to Arram's quick tongue.

Hugging Abby, she pulled away, "Oh and I've got good news. Your brother, Lincoln is here to see you. It was quite the surprise."

"Lincoln?" Lady Winfred blinked, pulling up behind them, "Where is my dearest son now?"

"Kidnapped," Jonathan laughed, coming up behind them.

Raoul and Gary, who just finished shuffling papers, came too, "I can't believe George kidnapped him! I didn't even see what went on properly from where I was standing."

"It's a joke," Alanna giggled, "He kidnapped my brother as a joke. Can't you see that even Lord Provost didn't take it seriously?"

"Some joke," Gary said, darkly, "Provost will have his head one of these days."

"George? Nah," Raoul grinned.

"Why don't we all go there now and meet up with dear Lincoln?" Alanna suggested, not trusting George to cease to take an ear as a royal souvenir.

"No way," Gary shook his head, "Arram and I need to stay back and finish up a conclusion or prepare an appeal in case we need it."

"I'm skipping too," Raoul said, downcast, "My great Aunt wants us to have a quick tea together."

"Then I'll take you all," Jonathan offered, "Care to join us Maid Abigail?"

"How can I say no, Your Highness?" Abby said, giving her deepest curtsy.

Alanna smiled, feeling her heartbeat slow down so that it came at a steady pace. Her breathing became normal and her entire being felt like it had shrunk now that it had released all her worry.

* * *

The Dancing Dove was not used to hosting nobles. Even when Alanna, Lady Winfred, and Jonathan came in their simplest clothes, they were still the most overdressed and glamourous people in the entire pub. Abigail, on the other hand, fit in well with her servingmaid's skirts. The Lady Squire hoped none of her usual friends would recognize her as Alanna of Conte or else she'd never hear the end of it. Especially since most of them thought she was a boy.

"Good afternoon, Solom," Jon greeted the owner of the Dove, "Can we see George?"

Solom gave them all a rotten toothed grin, "He's been expectin' ya. He's over in teh back room."

The group of four began making their way to the back room of the Dancing Dove, Alanna leading the rest since she was the most frequent visitor. Lady Winfred was fanning herself even though it was the middle of winter. She was extremely excited to be reunited with her first born.

The Lioness didn't even wait to knock on the door as she made her way into George's room. What she saw stupefied her. George and Lincoln sat by the hearth, chugging down whisky and sharing battle stories.

"You know the Shang. Came right at me before I could say a word so I-oh, hello Mother," Lincoln greeted his Mother.

Winfred glared at him, "Oh, hello Mother? After months apart that's all you say? I see you haven't changed one bit-"

She was cut off when her son stood up and lifting her off the ground as he hugged her. She tried to pull away and get down, "Lincoln! You release me this instant or else I'll have your neck!"

He put her down and kissed her, lovingly, on the cheek, "You haven't changed either."

"Oh hush you," Winfred scolded, stroking his hair and patting his cheek, "Go greet your sister now."

He turned to Alanna and Abigail. One who had the blue Conte eyes and brown red hair, the other who had emerald green eyes and chestnut hair. He took a step towards Alanna, spreading his arms wide, "Erm-sister?"

"Oh no," Alanna swiped her hand, "Abby's over there."

He turned to the servingmaid, looking her up and down, skeptically, "What've they done to you?"

He wrapped his arms, tightly, around her, "I heard what happened. Where's the idiot that did it? You give me the word and I'll butcher him."

"No," Abigail gave a weak giggle, "He'll get what's coming to him anyways."

"You look so...different. A potion, George says. Amazing. However, what's more amazing is this story the Rogue of Tortall tells me," Lincoln raised an eyebrow and glanced at Alanna.

The Lioness blushed, "That would be entirely my fault."

"Someone could've told me," the royal Nephew sniffed, defensively, "I can keep secrets, you know."

"But is teh surprise not fun?" George teased, offering his whisky to Lady Winfred, who shook her head.

Lincoln shrugged, then bowed, "Tis a pleasure to meet you, sister Alanna."

The Trebond's face just got redder at being treated like a lady, "That's really not neccessary."

Lincoln winked at her, crinkling his scar. He turned back to his Mother and sister, grinning, "When did you two gain so much weight?"

To avoid getting in the middle of an intense family conflict, Alanna chose to go to the window sill. George, smiling, left the room, a beer bottle in each hand. Jonathan chose to follow his squire to the window sill as bursts of indignition broke out from Winfred and Abigail.

"What a week, hey?" he stated, running a hand through his coal black hair.

"Yeah," Alanna nodded, softly. The sun, while far from its setting, was beginning to dip in the sky.

"At least Thom will be freed," Jon leaned against the small sill, watching a street vendor try to sell imitation gold necklaces.

"You think so?" the Lioness asked, shooting him a sidelong look.

He nodded, "How many more months till your birthday?"

"A bit over two months," she replied, "Then I'll be seventeen. After that, another year and I'll be a Knight."

"And then?" he questioned.

"And then? Then...then I'll ride off to have adventures of my own," the Lady Squire declared, eyes glazed and dreamy.

"You'll up and leave us all? What if I-we need you?" the Crown Prince demanded, just as Abby's laughter broke out in the background.

"All anyone has to do is call be back and I'll help out if I can," Alanna replied, stretching her back.

"You know what? There's been something I've been meaning to tell you ever since Midwinter Festival started but I got sidetracked with all this trial business," Jonathan admitted.

"What's that?" the Lioness inquired, getting the inkling that she knew exactly what.

Her Knightmaster opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, then shut it again. Finally he said, "I'll save it for later. I've kept it this long, what's a few more days?"

Alanna wanted to say something along the lines of a few more days she could be bethrothed and married to Roger for all she knew. Or someone could discover she wasn't Alanna of Conte or that Alan of Trebond was a girl. Anything could happen in a few days and she could be gone forever. However, she didn't want to worry him so she said nothing.

* * *

The pews creaked as the audience moved restlessly in their seats. Lady Winfred fanned herself, percariously. Alanna followed suit, trying to stop herself from sweating. It was hard to do so when Thom's future was on the line. After what felt like an eternity, the jury filed out of a back room. No one looked pleased with what had happened within and that worried her. Sir Myles didn't give her his usual wink but then again another traditionalist wasn't exactly cheery either.

In a chained stand, Thom stood, although this time Alex was standing with him as a possible suspect. Beside Alanna, Abby's hands started to shake. Even Arram Draper and Gary looked unsure of what they would give as their verdict.

The court marshall cleared his throat, "Has the jury come to a conclusion?"

"Yes," Myles nodded, standing up.

"How does the jury find Alan of Trebond?" the court marshall demanded, looking anxious and excited himself.

Alanna held her breath.

"The jury finds him not guilty," Sir Myles smiled, "He is released of all charges."

"Unchain him," the court marshall ordered.

Knights of the King's Own came forth and released Thom, who flexed his wrists, comfortably. He glanced over his shoulder at his sister and gave her a grateful smile. However, all was not finished.

"How does the jury find Alexander of Tirragen?" the court marshall asked, gavelling slipping out of his grip because he was so entranced by the intensity of the moment.

Nearly everyone leaned forward as if they were afraid they wouldn't hear otherwise. Alanna grabbed Abigail's hands, frightened.

"The jury finds him guilty," the Olau Knight pronounciated, clearly, "However, due to his services to the country in the Tusaine war and his contributions to bandit hunting and duties of the King's Own, we have decided to give him penance. We require him to pay Lady Alanna of Conte, mistress to the raped maid, 1000 gold nobles."

"Unchain him too," the court marshall ordered again, "Young Tirragen, pay your punishment and you may go free. The court is dismissed."

Alanna was furious. She couldn't believe they'd just let Alex escape like that! It seemed as if Tortall and all its glory and justice had failed her. Had failed Abby. Trying to controll herself, she rushed over to Thom and folded her arms around him till he couldn't breath.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear, surprised that she actually felt like crying, "I love you so much."

Releasing him, she almost broke out into giggles at the look on his face, "I love you too?"

To destroy the awkward moment, the Lioness snatched close to everyone up in a hug at the celebration at Thom's freedom. Abigail tried to look happy but Alanna sensed she was upest that Alex had gotten off so easily. To any wealthy noble family, 1000 gold nobles was a hefty amount but nothing they couldn't afford. So they'd go with twenty gowns for a wedding instead of thirty or they'd cut back on the wine. Nothing big.

"I apologize that it didn't work out the way you wanted," Jon told her, clasping his hands around her elbows.

"It's nothing that I won't get over," Alanna told him, "I just hope Abigail can too."

He smiled and brought her in for a hug. She was short enough to squeeze her head under his chin. Pulling back, she gave him a celebratory kiss on the cheek. Instantly, she regretted it. She had never in her whole entire life ever, ever, kissed anyone on the cheek. Not Thom, not her father, not Coram, not George, not anybody. Not even a woman. And now she had just kissed her Knightmaster. Hopefully, he wouldn't get the wrong impression.

It didn't seem he did, however, because, while a spark of emotion passed over him when it had first happened, he was soon nonchalant and smiling platonically. Behind him, though, his elder cousin looked anything but expressionless. When Alanna caught his eye, she knew what his expression said exactly, _This is not over. _

* * *

**Author's Note: **Ok, now that the trial is over, what do you all think is coming next? Expect the most confusing-est because that's what I'll try to give you lol. Hmm...let me see...oh and by the way expect another character too arrive soon. And this one is _not _at all nice and agreeable. Don't expect this one to let Alanna strut around as the royal Niece.

**winky-wink**


	18. Rose Walk

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...it fits with the time setting.

**Musical Affection: **'The nobodies' by _Marilyn Manson._

**Author's Note: Confusedknight: **Ahah...I could totally tell you were hyper. Anyways, yay he is free. And all is happy...for now.

**Rosemary's Granddaughter: **Aww...well that's great. Lol...I'll tell you what...I _never _plot out my stories...I just get lucky haha. Hmm...hallucinations? Interesting...anyways, I'll see if I tell Lincoln's Shang story...who knows.

**charlie and lola: **Yeah I guess so. Unless lots of people really hate it.

**Kokari: **I did update...I guess you didn't get it 'cause of the problems at Yup, I liked it too. OoO...cool play the cello? I play nothing...((sad face))...Anyways, yes it is really stupid but I kind of imitated what happened to Joren and Kel in their case. My natural hair color is black too but my mom won't let me dye it 'cause she thinks I'll go bald if I do...crazy I know.

**Saphron: **Unfortunately life catches up with me and prevents me from updating everyday lol.

**Queen Alanna of conte: **Hehe...I'll save what he wanted to say for a surprising time.

**dreamsofserenity: **Yeah, if only they knew...then Alex would probably be hanged on Traitor's Hill or something lol.

**WitchyMage: **Lol...I'm glad you liked that quote. Yup, if only Roger knew he got his own cousin raped. Haha...oh and the Alanna and Jon part comes later. And thanks!

**CrystallineX: **Thanks. I hope it does seem like something that sort of fills in what we've been told in little detail.

**elsepthana: **Yeah, I liked that quote too. Especially when you imagine them acting like they hate each other. And it was no problem reviewing your story. I _have _got free time on my hands.

**Lady Knight: **Yup, shure. You're right to think Lincoln is another key player in the series of events.

**RumorGoddess: **Haha, ok. Don't worry other people are wondering what he wanted to say too. Hmm...but I can't promise that it'll be in this chapter.

**FanFictionFanthom: **Hey, thanks! Anyways, I didn't expect to write a full out trial chapter either but it somehow came out that way! lol

**kristina: **Thank you. Thank you. Thank you all around.

**epobbp: **Yeah, he should've. That's life. It's a bitch lol.

* * *

'_Is eavesdropping as bad as it sounds? C'mon. They're in _your _thoughts. You're in_ their _bushes. It all evens out_'-Jim Benton

* * *

Alanna realized she was extremely tired. For the past week she had reverted back to being a squire full on and it was rather tiring and physically challenging after pretending to be a noble lady. Not that she wasn't very, _very _glad to be back doing what she loved. Oh no, she'd be a squire over a noble lady anyday. But some of the difficulties were killing her, like getting up early and tuning up her swordplay. On the other hand, Etiquette Master had given her a standing ovation for the biggest improvement he'd seen in years.

After a strenuous practice in archery, she began to make her way back to her chambers to wash up before beginning her homework. Douglass and Geoffery were probably already snug in the library commencing their maths. Her Archery Master had made her stay back to help him retrieve used arrows since he seemed to particularly enjoy picking on small Squire Alan.

Growling at her bad luck, she decided to take a short cut to her chambers through the Rose Walk, a mildly disused pathway in the Palace gardens. Usually squires were not permitted to use normal paths since a sweaty, dusty, young noble was not the most appealing sight for the glamorous regulars of the paths. However, everyone else was probably preparing for their evening tea, which left Alanna free to sneak away.

Trotting at a quick pace, Alanna bit off the tip of a rather long nail. She smoothed the ragged ridges of the nail over with her other nail and hardly noticed which direction she was going in. She knew the Palace so well by now, she could've found her way around if she was blindfolded and gagged. Stepping onto the Rose Walk, Alanna was practically overwhelmed by the scent of roses. The perfume of it came in heavily around her, suffocating her.

The Rose Walk was famous for its wide array of roses. Pink roses, yellow roses, violet roses, white roses, and most of all, red roses. The overlapped one another, hiding the sharp thorns underneath. These particular roses had been enchanted by Carthaki mages long ago as a peace gift to Tortall in the time of King Jasson so that they lived even through the winter. The Lioness couldn't help but admire them also, even though she knew she ought to go on. Faithful would surely scold her for not starting her homework earlier...

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Muffled voices._

The Lady Squire broke out of her stupor and looked up. Coming down the path, arm-in-arm, were Duke Roger and Lady Catherine. Feeling instantly unsafe, Alanna debated her current situation. She could run, that was for sure. But that would only notify her Aunt and her enemy of her prescence. Or, she could hide away and perhaps go completely undetected?

Alanna scruntinized the large bush in front of her, all red roses. Surely it had thorns, but should she worry about that now? Hesitating for a second longer, the Lioness pushed her way into the bush, careful not to make too much noise while doing so. The bush rustled, but Roger and Catherine were oblivious since they were so deep in talks.

Once inside the bush, the Trebond checked herself for cuts. Her skin was pierced by the prickly thorns in quite a few places, but it was nothing that she, herself, couldn't heal later on. And, she learned that if she stayed near the central stem of the bush and a gap between its other branches, she was out of the danger of getting scratched, needlessly. However, her torn cloak was not something she could fix as easily.

To her great annoyance, she had a cut in the flab of useless skin between her fingers. To hurt the most of all the wounds and she attempted it stop its flow. She swiped the blood away but a new bead only formed. Frowning, she squeezed the cut but that didn't help either. Sighing, restlessly, she just let it bleed and trickle while she waited for the Duke of Conte and Lady Catherine to pass on by.

Unfortunately, they didn't. Instead Roger stopped their walk right in front of Alanna's own bush!

"Are these roses not lovely, my lady?" he asked, softly, to Catherine.

"They are the most beautiful I have ever seen, Duke Roger," Catherine agreed.

"Did you know these particular red roses grow only near the mountains? Like those of your home fief of Trebond?" Roger stated, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"Is that so? Strange, I don't recognize them," Alanna's Aunt responded, clutching her emerald intwined cloak closer to her since it was the dead of winter.

"Many things from Trebond become unrecognizable," the Duke of Conte replied, his voice steely. Alanna shivered.

'_Does he know my secret?_' she thought, perilously.

"And see these these thorns? They look dull but they are sharper than most," Roger explained, "When you first seem these Trebond roses, you think they will not be a challenge. But they are, oh they are."

He held a rose, still attached to Alanna's bush, inbetween his leather gloved hand. He seemed to admire its beauty. Lady Catherine's eyes darted from his face to the rosebush as she raised her eyebrows.

"I want to crush it," he said, finally.

His hand covered the rose and he crumpled the flower till all its petals fell off to the snowy walkway. The Lioness watched them fall, feeling unnerved. She knew he was talking about her. She also knew that she would never allow herself to be destroyed like that red rose.

"I can help you crush it, you know," Catherine offered, "It has secrets that it would never want to be revealed."

The Conte Duke stared up at her and Alanna held her breath, knowing he would ask what and knowing she would tell him. If he found out she was a girl...she'd never be a Knight for sure. Roger would take her to court even, rally all the traditionalists...it would be horrible.

"I don't want you to tell me," Roger said, surprising both Alanna and Catherine, "Shame on me if I can't figure it out all on my own."

"But-," the Lady of Galla started.

"But nothing," Roger cut across her, "You are a worthy ally, my lady, but I want to have the satisfaction of knowing that I destroyed Alan of Trebond with knowledge I figured out all on my own."

"About all this ally business," Catherine raised the subject out of the blue, "What exactly is my profit from this?"

"What do you want?" the Conte asked his own question.

Alanna expected her to say money since she _was _a gold digging tramp after all. Or gold or silver or jewels or _something _like that.

"I want you to marry my daughter, Helena," Lady Catherine answered, boldly, without the slightest hint of embarrassment.

The Lioness was shocked and stupefied. She actually wanted to marry off her one daughter, her one child, to this monster? Why? Helena would be treated horribly, used only as a pawn to get Roger more power and she would spend the rest of her days being tormented to do evil deed after evil deed. Then again, she _did _deserve it.

Roger raised an eyebrow, equally surprised, "You're not a stupid lady, Catherine. Let me why you would want that?"

"Once you are King, she'll be Queen of course," Catherine replied, as if it were obvious.

"Well, I can't marry her for whatever reasons," the Conte Duke shrugged, checking his nails for dirt _again._

"And why not? My daughter is extremely attractive, if I may say so myself," Lady Catherine looked rather insulted at Helena's rejection.

"Oh, I won't deny that she's attractive. She is probably one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. But the problem is, I'm already bethrothed," Roger clarified.

"To who?" Catherine demanded, looking him up and down.

"My mother, Lady Georgia of Conte has negociated a marriage arrangement with Lord Cobalt of Rigton and Eastern Scanra. I will be married to my cousin, Alanna, by early next year," Roger said in response, "She shall be my Queen."

"Your cousin!" Catherine exclaimed, "She's not who you think she is Your Grace. I would say but then I know you want to solve your mysteries yourself. But, really, Alanna is nothing but a slut dressed as a lady."

"That slut dressed as a lady is my cousin and my bethrothed, though she does not yet know it," Roger stated, coldly.

Alanna choked on her breath. She was already bethrothed? Bethrothals weren't long. They lasted six months tops. That was eight months earlier than her Ordeal. No, no, no. She desperately needed to talk to Lady Winfred and Abigail. They needed to strategise something and quick.

"She'll never accept this marriage. She is headstrong. You'll have grief all your life if she is to be your Queen," Lady Catherine snarled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Who's to say that Alanna will be my Queen my whole life? Don't you think I know she's stubborn and difficult? I need her to start off though. However, after our first year of reign, I'm afraid she'll have an accident. The death will be tragic. I will be heartbroken for my people. Then I shall take on another Queen," Roger said, giving Catherine a sidelong glance and looking as calm as if they were talking about the New Year's Ball.

"Then take on Helena as your next Queen!" Lady Catherine offered, excitedly, "She and you would make a smart match."

The Duke of Conte shook his head, "After that I am already promised."

"To who?" Catherine cried, clearly disappointed that she would have to try to kill off two girls before Helena could be Queen of Tortall.

"I cannot say," he said, simply, and Alanna knew he meant Delia.

Queen Delia. Ugh, it sounded so wrong.

"Anyway, second marriage is a long time away. My first isn't even yet officially arranged," Roger sighed, "But it will be once Lord Cobalt joins us here in Corus and informs Lady Winfred, Alanna and Lord Lincoln of the engagement."

"When does he come?" Alanna's Gallan Aunt demanded, freezing her toes off.

"January sixth," the Conte Duke answered, looking bored with the conversation, "Shall I escort you indoors? It's getting extremely cold outside."

"Very well, Your Grace," Catherine nodded her head.

He offered her his arm and she took it, giving him a fake smile. They began strolling back to the Palace, chatting about the upcoming Ball and the leave of the Carthaks. Prince Ozorne had been complaining that he hated the frost and cold of such a brutal kingdom and wished to return to the warm tropics of the Empire of Carthak. Geoffery, who had been raised to dislike almost all foreigners, had practically jumped for joy at the news.

Alanna was glad too, but she had to admit she'd miss Arram Draper. He had saved Thom's life with all his help on the trial and what's more he had become her friend with his witty humor and dark expressions.

Once Roger and Catherine were plainly out of sight, the Lady Squire forced her way out of the rose bush. The thorns torn at her clothes, skin, and hair, making for a very painful escape. She was glad to be out, even though she looked worse for the wear. Trying to make herself look somewhat presentable to Douglass and Geoffery, she headed up to her quarters.

Her mind seemed to stay behind at the Rose Walk, though, because she could think of nothing else except how much she wished she hadn't overheard what had just been said. It confirmed her worst suspicions and what was worse, it also meant that Lord Cobalt, Abby's father, would be in Corus in a week. This left little time to plan and gather. She knew that the Lord of Rigton and Eastern Scanra would not be keen on the fact that a she-male had dressed up as his daughter and that his real daughter was playing the part of a maid.

She was also worried about her secret, wondering how much longer it would stay a secret. Any day now Lady Catherine would burst forth with confessions and the entire court would be turned on its head as people tried to pick apart the Lioness. The Trebond that dared to break every rule set down by the Noble code.

However, the most disturbing thing of all was Roger of Conte and his burning desire to 'crush' Alan of Trebond as he had so nicely put it. Hatred of the other was burning deeply within both of them and Alanna had a feeling that if she could kill him she would. Honestly. And _that _thought was more scary than anything else.

* * *

Alanna practically fell off her chair, she was laughing so hard in the library. She was _laughing _so hard in the _library_. Most people would wonder what in the world was going to make Alan of Trebond as jubilant as he was in a place he normally hated.

The real reason she was so happy was because Arram Draper was so hilarious. He would randomly trail off on facts and think it was a perfectly normal thing to do. Then Alanna would mock him and laugh and he'd looked confused. The best and most funny part about Arram was that half the time, he was completely oblivious to his apparent humor.

"Your laugh is very high-pitched. Sounds almost like a noble lady," the Tyran teased, cheekily.

"Perhaps it's a clue on how to solve me," the Lioness tried to laugh it off.

"Perhaps it is, Trebond," the mage said, sounding serious.

Alanna sighed, "You're still not trying to solve me are you?"

When he didn't answer, she added, "There's nothing to solve, you know. And, anyways, your time is up. You're leaving tomorrow and you still haven't solved me have you?"

He shrugged and smiled like someone who was defeated. The Lady Squire grinned, triumphantly. She knew he wouldn't be able to figure out her secret. She was just too good at keeping it.

"You know what, I believe I may actually miss Tortall when I leave," Arram rubbed his chin, thoughtfully.

"Surely your Prince won't," Alanna interjected, remembering Ozorne's constant complains about the waste land that was Tortall.

'_He's just bitter that his ancestors couldn't take over,_' she thought, smirking.

"Oh, don't take notice of his whining. It just means that he admires your great kingdom so much. It makes him jealous as the heir to another," Arram waved his hand, "Prince Ozorne is like an enfant, underneath it all he is nothing but an immature, selfish, spoiled, brat."

"Bold words to use for the heir to your empire!" Alanna cried, raising an eyebrow.

"My empire? I'm from Tyra, remember? I could just as easily come to another country," the socceror clarified, "Maybe I'll even come to Tortall."

"Maybe you'll work for Jon and help us win wars," Alanna trailed off, getting a dreamy look in her eyes, "Maybe by then I'll be a Knight and..."

"Enough maybes, I have to go pack my baggage for tomorrow. Prince Ozorne will be displeased if I'm not ready to leave," Arram interrupted her, rising and bowing.

As the mage and her new found friend left, the Lioness frowned. She hadn't exactly become enamoured with Prince Ozorne like most other young noble ladies in Tortall. He was rather vain and even more snobby. And the way he talked about Carthak...it was like there was no other kingdom to rival it.

Arram Draper, on the other hand, was very easy to like. Once you got used to him that is. He was the perfect thing she needed in her life right now. A male figure who she needn't worry about loving or wanting to kill her. No, he was just her friend, her companion. Someone decent to talk to. She almost regretted him not figuring her out. If anyone _were _to solve her, she'd have preferred it be him over anyone else.

* * *

The morning of January the fifth was a grim one. Not only were the Carthaks leaving that day, but Queen Lianne's health had diminished at a frighteningly rapid rate. Alan was bored being both lady and squire since Jonathan was never around lately to set her about tasks. So, the day the Carthaks and Arram were to leave, Alanna was dressed as her Conte counterpart as part of the royal farewell to the Tortallan's southern brothers.

The Lioness stood between Lady Winfred and Lincoln, who had about five swords hung around his waist. One was particularly thick and curved largely like the swords used my the desert Bazhirs. Another was a bit smaller and duller, heavier too, a glaive from the Yamani Islands. Lincoln even had a Shang sword that said 'Shang Leopard' near the hilt. Since Lincoln of Conte was no Shang, Alanna had a feeling its previous owner was dead. Alanna, however, could not ask about and enjoy the stories of how he had gotten all the foreign swords since she was busy scanning the crowd of nobles for her Knightmaster.

Obviously, he hadn't come. Both the King and Queen had sent their apologies to the Carthaks, saying that they were deeply agrieved that they could not bid them farewell, but that the Queen was in no state to leave her bedchambers. Of course, Jon had skipped too, spending every waking moment by his mother's side. Winfred, Abby, and Lincoln were all deeply upset by their sister-in-law and Aunt's illness. Abigail was going crazy over the fact that she couldn't see her Aunt because she was nothing but a simple maid while in Tortall and not suitable to go in front of a Queen. Hell, most of the Tortallan Court was morbid because of their sick Queen. Even the New Year's Ball and festivities had been cancelled due to it.

Trumpets sounded as Prince Ozorne, Lord Gugal, Lady Sheila, Lady Varice, and Arram Draper stepped into the Entrance Hall. Duke Gareth, Duke Roger, Gary, and the Scanran Contes stepped forward as the royal goodbye. Alanna had never felt like more of a fraud than she did then, standing there. She shook hands and curtsied when she was supposed, losing track of what was really going on.

Arram came along, smiling at her, "My lady."

He bowed and she curtsied. Saving the formality for other people, she hugged him. Tears prickled her eyelids to her great surprise. She hadn't known she would miss him this much.

She tried to pull away but he clasped her close and whispered in her ear, "Good-bye, Alanna of Trebond."

The Lady Squire stiffened and moved away, blinking, "How did you...?"

"There has never been a mystery I haven't solved," Arram grinned, sweeping her one last bow, "You were a hard one, but I got it eventually. Farewell."

"Farewell," she murmured back, not knowing if he heard. She was still shocked still by the fact that he knew what she really was. A noble girl trying to be a Knight. And he hadn't even mocked her, what a surprise!

"Arram, are you coming or not?" Ozorne hollered from the front of the Carthaki procession.

The mage rolled his eyes and left, his black robe whipping out behind him. The Lioness couldn't help but stare until he had disappeared, hoping it was not the last time they would see each other.

* * *

The sixth of January was completely contrasting to the fifth of January. While the day before had been one of sorrowful goodbyes and worries about the health of the Queen, today was one of joyful celebrations. Lianne of Conte had somehow miraculously healed overnight and to commerate this wonderful occasion, King Roald held a ball and banquet the very next day. It was a welcome surprise to all the nobles who had been sorely disappointed when the New Year's Ball had been called off.

The Lioness was dressed up as Alanna of Conte since Thom had come as Squire Alan and under no circumstances would consider going as a lady again, no matter how hard his sister begged him. The Lady squire was greatly annoyed with tonight's appareil (it had been Abigail's choice), which was a soft pink silk slim-fitted gown. In general, it wasn't too lacy or frilly, but its sleeves were its worst feature. The sleeves were tight along the length of her arm, yet they puffed hugely at her shoulders. Alanna felt like two pink bubbles were resting on either side of her. She might as well have been growing three heads. Her brown red hair, however, was not a nuissance tonight since it had been curled and tied into a ponytail with a diamonded ribbon.

Thom, wearing all black tonight, one of the only colors that went with the infamous Trebond hair, looked extremely dashing. The Lioness only hoped he wouldn't make any new lovers. She didn't need a noble lady hassling her after her twin left Corus.

The Belated New Year's Ball was decorated even more stunningly than most usual balls since everyone was so overjoyed. Alanna, while happy, thought that Queen Lianne's sudden sickness and sudden recovery had something natural about it. Instinctively she felt that Roger and his soccery was involved. What quicker way to get the crown than to kill off its inhabitants, one-by-one.

The banquet part of the ball was full under away, as many people at while others danced. Once at the ball, Thom offered to dance with her, since so many of her suitors from the Midwinter Ball were still there, eyeing her hungrily.

"You know, I'm glad you asked me to dance because I really wanted to talk to you," Alanna commenced, hoping to get what she wanted to say off her chest.

"About what?" her brother demanded, raising a red eyebrow.

"Well, that whole trial thing...it was a really close call," she breathed, concentrating on her footwork. It hurt with feetkillers on.

"Yeah, so?" he, apparently, wanted her to get straight to the point.

"So I was thinking maybe it was time for you to leave Corus. It'd be safer if you weren't around, just in case all this blows up in my face," Alanna voiced her worries, deciding to let him go even though she desperately needed him.

Thom smiled, "You still need me. I'll be fine here for a few more weeks. But after that, I really need to get back. Anyways, I have a feeling this will all be over soon."

"What makes you say that?" the Lioness asked, catching his violet eyes.

"For one, all the key players are falling into place. Lincoln, Winfred, Abigail. Once Lord Cobalt gets here, it'll end. And as for Aunt Catherine and dear cousin Helena, they'll have to return to Galla sometime before June this year to pay capital to the Gallan King for their fief as they are required to do," Thom clarified, swirling her around just as the music stopped, "Now, I believe I'll get myself a drink. See you later?"

Alanna nodded, then noticed Jonathan ushering for her to come over, "Bye..."

She tried to get to him but was snatched up by a Knight, who expected her to dance with him or something. She scowled at a mole near his upper lip the whole time, wanting to hear what her Knightmaster had to say. It looked urgent.

Unfortunately, after that first Knight, she had to dance with about three others. She finally excused herself by saying she had to make a quick stop at her powder room. Instead she sought out the Crown Prince, who was sitting, almost as if he were trying to hide, at a table, covered by a large ivory flower vase. Alanna settled in beside him, wondering what he had to say.

"Have a drink," he offered, pouring her a glass of champagne.

"No thanks. I don't want a drink," she rejected it, shaking her head, "What did you want to say?"

"No, seriously, have a drink. You'll need it once I'm through," Jonathan persisted.

She took it and sipped it, just to be polite, "Ok, happy? Now tell me what's going on."

He inhaled deeply, "You know as well as everyone else at Court that my mother had been ill for week. Well, last night Roger suggested he try using his Gift for special treatment, since none of what our healers were doing was working."

Alanna gripped the stem of her champagne glass, getting nervous. However, that wasn't particularly odd since she felt that way whenever the Conte Duke was involved in something.

"To our great relief, Roger's treatment worked," Jon continued.

'_Well duh,_' Alanna thought, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes, '_He's the one who created the sickness, so he could've taken it away just as easily._'

"Father was so happy," Jonathan stared at the table straight ahead, not daring to look at his squire, "He told Roger he'd give him anything he wanted. And...and Roger said all he wanted was permission to marry y-you."

"Don't tell me the King said yes!" the Trebond cried, shaking the table as she smacked her palm onto it.

"He did," Jon sighed, soberly, "You and Roger are officially engaged under the Tortallan code of the Royal family."

It was true, they were. In the Royal family, whenever anyone got married, from your own brother to the most distant cousin, you were required to receieve permission from the head of the family, the King of course. Without it, no two people in the Conte line could be married. Alanna had been counting on Roald to reject a union between his niece and nephew but now she didn't even have that.

To Jonathan's great shock, she didn't sceam. Instead, she grabbed the champagne glass in front of her and downed it. She gestured for the Crown Prince to pour her another. He was just in the train of tipping the bottle of glossy, sparkly, liquid when the Duke of Conte rose, ringing a fork against his own drinking glass. The entire Court stalled, eyes glued to the handsome face of their golden boy.

"My dear ladies and gentlement, nobility of Tortall, I have a most wonderous of announcements to make. My great uncle, Roald of Conte, has bestowed me with a gift beyond any I could imagine," Roger speeched, making Alanna squirm, "He has given me permission to marry, my love."

Gasps were resounding through the crowd at this sudden engagement and bethrothal for their precious Duke. Who was the lucky woman? they all wondered, Who had won Roger of Conte's heart? The Lady Squire just wanted to curl up into a ball and die. She prayed to her patron, the Greath Mother Goddess, that the Conte Duke did not mention her name.

"You destroy your curiousity, I shall call her up and formally ask her to marry me in front of all of you, my closest companions," the Duke of Conte grinned, making soft lady hearts flutter all throughout the room, "My dearest Alanna, where are you?"

"Oh my god," she breathed, looking desperately at Jonathan, hoping he had an escape plan.

He gave her an apologetic look, shaking his head, "Just get up and get it over with."

Well it was no point hiding anymore. All the nobles had found her location and almost every eye was upon her. She tried not to look sick as she made her way up to Roger, her mortal enemy. The dead silence of the audience was deafening. She hurried up to Roger quicker, wanting to disappear. He took her hand, kissed it, and went down on one knee.

"Lovely Alanna, marry me?" he offered, holding out a golden ring with a large red garnet on it. It was something to match her bracelet and necklace.

She took one look at it and felt like vomitting. However, she held it in and took one last glimpse at the crowd. Lady Winfred looked defeated and merely gave Alanna a soft nod as signification as what response to give. Lincoln looked heated and furious. Thom looked like he was making fast calculations. Geoffery, Douglass, Gary and Raoul were looking between one another, wondering what they'd do with a broken-hearted Alan of Trebond. Delia looked like she had just swallowed a lemon, her face was so sour.

"Y-Yes?" the Lioness choked out after what left like forever to the waiting crowd. They clapped and some squires even cheered when she answered him. The jubilant reaction was more than she could handle, she felt faint.

Roger stood and hugged her, patting her back, comforting, more like he was sorry than he was in love with her. Alanna gulped a sob that was fighting to break out. The Duke of Conte cupped her chin and tilted his face forward. He was going to kiss her! Panicking, the Trebond screwed her head to one side at the last minute, forcing him to kiss her ear. He tried to make it look natural, but anybody would've been able to tell that Alanna of Conte had avoided kissing her fiance.

_Fiance. _Great Mother Goddess. This was really happening.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Betcha didn't expect that haha. A sudden engagement. Anyways, click in next chapter. It's sure to be good. Oh and review this one, please. It means a lot to me and thanks.

**winky-wink**


	19. Two Nieces, One Engagement

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...it fits with the time setting.

**Musical Affection: **'Ode to Indian Girls' by _Rakesh._

**Author's Note:epobbp: **You know why that hasn't happened? Because I'm stupid lol...haha I never thought of it but it's true. Hmm...I'll definitely keep that in mind from now one, you smarty-pants.

**iluvsinging333: **Thanks. ((blushes)) Haha, I try.

**Queen Alanna of conte: **Me either and yeah, it's really really wrong. And thank you.

**charlie and lola: **Wow, thanks. That's nice of you. And is Alanna going to actually marry Roger? You'll just have to wait and see.

**Lady Knight: **He probably wouldn't have gotten it if he hadn't cured the Queen. And thanks too.

**WitchyMage: **Hey thanks! Roald gave permission he otherwise wouldn't have given because he told Roger he'd give him _anything _for curing Lianne. Alanna couldn't say no because Lord Cobalt would go crazy if he heard that his daughter had said no. Olden days, unfortunately, where girls have little say in these matters. Wrong, I know. Thank god the times have changed.

**lutefa: **LOL...good for you! Roger _is _very intelligent. Oo...war games? That actually sounds like fun. You did this while I was playing with my Barbie haha. Yeah she _is _engaged, whatta shocker. She sort of had to take it because Abigail, who's part she's playing, is probably going to have to marry Roger. Or so she thinks. Btw, I love roses too. Especially white ones.

**Silveni: **Lol, yup. I don't like Roger of Conte either. And that's fine. Hmm, I know very little about bethrothals, sorry about messing it up! But I'll just keep it that way so it's convenient for me lol.

**Confusedknight: **Thank you. I know, I love Arram (precious Numair) too. And yeah, it does mean Abby is engaged. Haha, eight months..hmm, we'll see right?

**FanFictionFanthom: **Thanks a bunch. I hope I keep it up.

**Rosemary's Granddaughter: **Haha, intends to marry you? Hmm...that _might _just be the plot twist I'm looking for. Yup, Lincoln is always loaded with weapons. LOL...and I'll consider your plot points.

**elsepthana: **I know, it's crazy. Lol, and the ending is going to be equally crazy.

**Saphron: **Wow, thanks a lot. I'm glad you think I did it so well. It's really complicated though but fun all the same.

**Kokari: **Sorry, haha. I know I'm horrible when it comes to cliffhangers. Anyways, I hope this settles you for a bit.

**Angel of Dream: **That's ok. And thank you. Oh and I'll try to take your advice to heart. Thanks for pointing that out.

_**As a last note, I just wanted to say that this story will slowly start its official wind down. It's not that I don't like it anymore, but haven't you noticed the ending start to poke through? Anyways, it's still going to be a few more chapters so no worries of a sudden ending. I'll tell you when it's coming.**_

* * *

'_If you stop struggling, then you stop life_'- Huey Newton

* * *

Clapping was still resounding in Alanna's ears as she felt Roger's hands on her shoulders, leading her out of the Ball Room. Immediately, Lincoln, Jon, Thom, Winfred and Abigail began to follow. As soon as they were out of the Ball Room, the Lioness shrugged the Duke of Conte's arms off her. Mithros, she felt so filthy. She couldn't believe she was actually engaged to Roger of Conte. It was a dirty feeling.

"Roger! Cousin Roger! What do you think you're doing?" Lincoln demanded, striding, agressively, towards his elder cousin.

"Lincoln, please! This is no place to make a scene," Winfred begged, holding a shaky hand on her forehead.

"A scene?" Lincoln's face so red, it looked like he would explode, "He's planning on marrying Ab-Alanna!"

"I don't know why you're so surprised," Roger rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, "You must've seen this coming. Lord Cobalt is boasting about this union all over Scanra."

"Listen," Jon's voice was surprisingly calm, "Let's go somewhere private? This is a family matter and I don't want all the court to hear it. How about you go discuss this in father's office? It's just near here."

Lincoln shook his head, shaggy hair waving, "This is crazy...oh, Mithros, just take us and let's get it over with."

"Wait. If this is a family matter, what are Alan of Trebond and that servingmaid doing here? Last time I checked, they weren't considered Conte," the Conte Duke turned up his nose, looking disdainful.

"They are now," Alanna said, boldly, "Alan and Abigail are with me."

Roger glared at her, the love he'd shown her in front of the masses of nobility gone. However, she managed to shut him up. Jonathan stared between them, then spun around and began leading the way to one of the King's offices. The hall was dimly lit, though beautifully decorated. Alanna kept near Thom, feeling as if he was the only one that could truely protect her for her, not for being Abigail.

As they passed regal portraits of ex-Kings and Queens, Alanna felt as if their eyes followed her, knowing all her secrets. She felt as if they all knew she was a liar. _Liar. Liar. Liar. _They taunted her, she shivered. She wasn't a liar. It wasn't her fault that she'd had to put up with this charade. And, originally, it had been rather light-hearted, just a mere joke. She never once imagined she'd end up engaged.

"Here we are," the Crown Prince said, halting in front of a handsomely carved wooden door. From his pocket he drew out a golden, laced, key. It was the one key gifted to the heir to the throne of Tortall and its sovereigns. It opened every single door in the Palace. Alanna noticed Roger watching it, eyes bright. She shifted her position so that she blocked his view of it. He'd have that key in his hands over her dead body.

Jonathan opened the door and stepped over the threshold. Everyone else entered, gingerly, after him. Only Roger strolled in, seemingly superior to the rest of them. Just as Abby was about to shut the door behind her, Faithful slinked in. Alanna was glad to see him and held out her hands to him. However, he went to Thom instead. At first, she was hurt. Then she realized that Faithful was Alan of Trebond's cat and she was most certainly not Alan of Trebond in this circumstance.

'_There's a-brewing. And it's coming your way right now_,' Faithful spoke so only Alanna heard.

Her Knightmaster, seeing the cat, sensed he'd given her a message. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Alanna quizically. She shook her head, decided to tell him later when Roger _wasn't _within hearing vicinity. The Duke of Conte noticed this suspicious exchange and regarded Faithful, oddly. He had never liked the feline. Unlike most other people and animals, this one didn't like him.

The Lady Squire breathed in, deeply, at her godly companion's warning. Why wasn't she surprised? She steeled herself. Whatever this new obstacle was, she'd jump over it like she did every other one.

"You still haven't answered my question, Roger," Lincoln leaned against the wall, not far from the desk Roger was sitting behind.

"Why, I love her, of course," the Conte Duke replied, trying to look oblivious and innocent.

"Don't lie to me!" Lincoln snapped, rushing forth, balling his hand into a fist. For one fearful moment Alanna and near everyone else thought he was about to punch his cousin. Instead he merely slammed his punch into the desk. Thom flinched, not enjoying the violence.

"Why are you so angry, dear Lincoln? Only good can come of this relationship. Imagine how good it'll be for you if your sister marries me," Roger clarified, straightening his doublet.

"Mother!" Lincoln cried, whipping around, "Say something!"

"Oh Lincoln, say what? You know how stubborn your father is sometimes," Winfred shrugged and for the first time Alanna noticed the grey bags of sleepless nights under the beautiful woman's eyes, "I'm tired of fighting, sweetheart."

"Tired? Abigail, are you going to take this?" Lincoln demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"I...I came here knowing what would happen, if that's what you mean. I cannot fight what must be," Abby shook her head.

Alanna couldn't believe what she was hearing. Winfred and Abigail were two of the strongest women she knew and here they were, crumbling under the pressure of one man. How bad could Lord Cobalt be anyways?

"I won't take it," the Lioness declared, standing up, taller.

"I never said you had to take it," Roger stood too, walking over to her, "I never said you had a choice. You will do as your betters have decided for you."

"I suppose that means I don't have to listen to you, doesn't it?" the Trebond's eyes and temper flared.

"When you're my wife, I'll snap that sass in half," the Duke of Conte threatened, grabbing her arm tightly. Alanna shoved him away, watching streaks of red from where he'd grabbed her fade, slowly.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Lincoln hollered, facing his cousin.

"Lincoln...," Jon tried to mediate, rubbing the side of his eyes.

"Or what?" Roger hissed, "What are you going to do, Lincoln?"

"Roger!" Jonathan exclaimed, "Are you _trying _to provoke him?"

"I think he is," Lincoln nodded, grinning all of a sudden, "Let's give him what he wants."

Not even Faithful, who could predict most things with his magic, expected Lincoln of Conte to sucker punch his own cousin, the Duke of Conte, at the forehead. Roger cried out, falling to the ground, instantly.

"Oh my god!" Abbigail gasped, the very picture of shock with her eyebrows raised high and her hands to her mouth.

Alanna didn't leave as alarmed and came over Roger to see what the situation was. Blood poured from his hairline at the forehead. It was dripping into his left eye. The Conte Duke's breathing was heavy as he struggled to sit up. Lincoln looked satisfied as he held a handerchief to the ripped skin at his knuckle. Great Mother Goddess! The Lioness had never admired the Scanran Conte more. He'd actually hit the Duke of Conte! Oh, how wonderful it had been to see that!

Jonathan shook his head, looking disturbed, "Lincoln...you _really_ shouldn't have..."

'_I believe it was appropriate in the circumstances_,' Faithful purred, leaping out of Thom's arms and rubbing against Alanna's ankles.

The door to King Roald's office opened as seven heads shot up, stimutaneously. A richly clothed man entered. He had skin paler than any Alanna had ever seen before and his hair was a white blonde. His eyes were a shockingly icy blue. What was stranger yet about this man was that he war more jewellry than Alanna, Lady Winfred and Abigail combined. His ears were pierced three times at the bottom, one in the middle, one at the top and another at the very joint where the ear joined the actual head. His nose was strung with a bob too. He wore about seven necklaces, bracelets and numerous rings. All of these looked be of the most expensive and polished silver. Before he'd even introduced himself, Alanna knew this had to be Lord Cobalt of Rigton and Eastern Scanra.

He eyed Winfred first. She rose, her beautiful stature lost as she saw her husband. She bowed to him, which Alanna thought was odd. Wives didn't generally bow to their husbands. Not in Tortall anyway.

"My Lord," she breathed, not daring to look him in the eye.

"Winfred. You are ever more beautiful," Cobalt smiled, although it looked fake. He took his lady's hand and kissed it, gently, "I missed you, greatly, in the time we were apart."

"And I you," she finally looked up and Alanna couldn't see why he said she looked more beautiful. Her eyes were tired from weeks of worrying about what would happen with Alanna and Abigail. Her hair was limp because she didn't have time to care for it because she was always trying to think up schemes to destroy the upcoming engagement between her daugther and Roger. She was still lovely, yes, but not at the level she had been at when she'd come here.

He gave her a sneer-like look and moved on as if he was done talking with her, "Lincoln, dear boy, I can see you are still as ragged as ever."

"Father," Lincoln held out a hand.

Lord Cobalt shook it. They seemed more like business partners than father and son. In fact it was hard to imagine Lord Cobalt fathering neither Conte children. They had both obviously inherited all their Tortallan traits as opposed to their Scanran ones.

"Where is my precious daughter?" Cobalt asked, looking about.

Abigail was currently trying to hide behind Alanna and Jonathan so that Roger wouldn't have to witness his uncle reunite with the supposed servingmaid. Lincoln settled the problem as he took a book and whacked the Duke of Conte over the head with it, throwing him unconcious. Lord Cobalt raised an eyebrow, his silver bangles tinkling with a eerie rhythm.

"Is that...is that Roger you just hit?" the Scanran Lord implored, instead of looking highly frightened and disturbed, he seemed rather amused. Did he like watching his son massacre his supposed nephew?

"Erm...no," Jonathan supplied, "That's a-err-Carthaki spy in disguise."

"Hmph," Cobalt noted, quaintly, not giving any indication about whether or not he believed this highly weak story or not, "Interesting. My, my, Jonathan. You are quite the young man. I was very impressed when I heard of your commanding during the Tusaine War."

Abby winked at Alanna who was watching her, as she pulled out a vial from the folds in her skirts. She took a few quick swallows, instantly turning back into her Conte self. Even in her servingmaid dress, she looked regal and beautiful.

"Thank you, Uncle Cobalt," the Crown Prince nodded, smiling, politely.

"Who's that behind you? Is that my Abby? My nightingale?" Cobalt gave his first genuine smile, "Come out and welcome your father properly, young lady."

Abigail squeezed out from between Alanna and Jonathan. The Lioness stood beside her Knightmaster, hoping that Lord Cobalt became none the wiser about her part in his family mess. Jonathan stood close and wrapped a protective arm around her waist. She felt it there and glanced at it, suspiciously, although she didn't shrug it off.

"Nightingale!" Lord Cobalt exclaimed, grinning broadly, using his apparent nickname for her, "I've missed you more than anyone else!"

He wrapped his arms around her, giving her his warmest reunion. He lifted her off the ground by about two feet and shook her till her face was red. He lowered her, studying her critically.

"You're dressed as a maid," he stated, finally, frowning.

Abby tried to laugh if off, "It's really just a joke. I just wanted to see what all those Tortallan traditionalists would say if I came to a ball dressed as a servingmaid. You know me."

Cobalt shook his head, laughing with her, though it sounded mechanic, "That I do."

Over the royal Niece's shoulder, he caught Alanna's eye. She looked awkward standing there in all the glamour that Abigail should have been wearing. Her gown was held oddly, as if she didn't wear them very often which she didn't. The Lioness was just thinking about a fake allias to make up for herself when Lord Cobalt asked her what her name was.

"This is my new friend," Abby explained, coming to her rescue, "She's...uh Alanna of B-Bablia."

'_Alanna of Bablia,_' Faithful purred, his voice teasing, '_I do believe you've just gained another persona to become._'

The Lady Squire stared daggers into her black cat's head. He merely straightened his whiskers, giving her a leering smile, '_Is Bablia even a Tortallan fief?_'

Jonathan and Alanna looked between each other, hoping that Lord Cobalt knew very little about the geography of Tortall.

"Alanna of Bablia?" Cobalt repeated, blinking, "I've never heard of that particular fief before."

"It's one of the newer ones," Jon rushed to make up for Abigail's stupid move, "Father created it along the same time as Mindelan and those other ones. Not many have heard of it yet."

"I see. And who's this young man here?" the Scanran Warlord questioned, gesturing towards Thom.

"Squire Alan of Trebond, if you please, sir," Thom said with a bow, exactly as squires and pages were trained to do. It seemed as if some of his daily training was actually rubbing off on him. Alanna couldn't help but grin at the thought. Sir Thom, Knight of Tortall.

"Squire Alan? I believe I've heard of you from my nephew, Roger, a few times. It's a pleasure, I'm sure," Cobalt held out his hand and gave Thom's a tight squeeze. It was most certainly not a pleasure. Anything Roger had said about Alan could only be for the worse.

"Abigail? Come, you must escort me to my quarters so that we may be reaquainted. I've much to tell you," Lord Cobalt smiled, then gave a last, platonic, look over his shoulder, "Winfred, Lincoln, come along."

The family of four left the room. Jon shut the door right away. He looked across his father's study and suddenly wished that he hadn't brought everyone here. The whole office was a mess from where Lincoln knocked over chairs on his way to the Conte Duke. There was also a plant that had fallen over when Roger had gone to the ground, the dirt from its pot all over the floor. Worst of all, blood from Roger's wound at the forehead was dripping on the marble floor too. Alanna wrinkled her nose, he was the most vile mess of all.

"What do we do with him?" the Crown Prince demanded, looking exasperated.

"Clean him up and take him back to his room. If we're lucky he won't talk. He might even think he imagined all this," Thom suggested, quickly, "Alanna, can I leave you in charge of that?"

"Me? Take care of Roger?" the Trebond looked indignant, "Why can't you do it? You're an equal healer. Better even."

"Because I have to stay here and help His Highness clean this mess up. It'll go faster with our Gifts. _Your _Gift on the other hand, isn't trained for stuff like that. And, it'll look more natural if Roger's fiance leads him back to his chambers than his enemy," Thom rolled his eyes, annoying Alanna because he was right. She hated it when he was right.

Too angry to say anything, she simply kneeled beside Roger of Conte and began healing the wound at his forehead. Mere minutes ago she had hoped to be the one to cause him this pain and now she was helping him to get better! Swallowing about ten different types of curses, she began to medicate the Duke of Conte. The purple of her Gift began flowing into the wound, the magic instantly stitching up the sum of Lincoln's furious punch. She couldn't stop to do things the mortal way because she couldn't risk leaving a scar there. If he had any reason to put blame on Lincoln for hitting him, they would all likely be in trouble. After a few draining minutes, the wound was heal completely. The faintest mark was there, not anything Roger was likely to notice lest he looked for it.

"How do I get him back to his room?" the Lioness asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

"Here, let me help you," her Knightmaster offered, and together, the two of them lifted the socceror off the ground, balancing him on each of their sides. His head lolled and rested on Alanna's shoulder, making her twitch, uncomfortably.

"Argh! Thom, get him off me!" she cried, fidgeting, the head would not budge.

"Hold still, will you?" her brother scolded her like a mother would to her child.

He reached out a hand, trying to move Roger's head off her shoulder. It was impossible to move, unless they snapped the Conte Duke's neck in half. Alanna could practically feel Faithful's silent laughter ringing throughout the study, even though she could not see her feline companion.

"Unfortunately, you'll just have to take him like that," Thom shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"How about I take him with you?" Jon offered, "I don't trust you not to hurt him anyway."

The Lady Squire grumbled in reply. So, the three of them set off. Her, Jon, and Roger. Faithful stayed behind with Thom, watching in interest as the young mage started lifting the bowels of dirt off the ground and transporting it back into the pot with his Gift. The last thing Alanna heard before the door to the study closed was the cat saying, '_Your Gift is strong. Have you ever considered..._'

Luckily, the walk to Roger's rooms was not far from King Roald's study. Just a bit off the Ball Room. Unfortunately, it was also a quiet one. Both friends did not want their chatter to attract unwanted attention from nobles still roaming about from the Ball. They were rather breathless from supporting Roger's weight anyway. The socceror was not particularly bulky, but he most certainly weighed more than Jon.

When the door to the socceror's chambers loomed ahead, Alanna was quietly cheering out of relief. Her breathing was ragged by the time Jon had used his key to unlock the way into the Duke of Conte's chambers. They passed by laboratories, libraries, and sitting areas. Mithros, must his rooms be so large? Finally the reached the bedroom, bumping their way in. They swagger, tired from carrying all this dead weight. The Lioness and the Prince placed Roger on his large, fur-lined bed, heaving.

A curtain rustled nearby, causing Alanna to snap her head up. The blue velvet draperies were moving no longer so she took it to be a breeze from the open window. Straightening, she stretched her back, cringing. Jon was leaning against what looked like a basin, catching his breath. He looked far less tired than she was, but, then again, she _was _a bit out of practice.

"Remind me never to put Roger and Lincoln in the same room again," Jonathan shook his head.

The Trebond gave a tired laugh, "Gladly."

Once again the white basin behind her Knightmaster caught her eye. It was oddly curtained, as if something extremely secretive was underneath it. She heard the trickle of water and knew it was running. Alanna's eye went to the corner of the room where she noticed another wash basin. Why did Roger of Conte need two wash basins? In fact, now that the Lioness thought of it, she hadn't seen that white basin Jon was leaning on the last time she'd been in Roger's chambers.

"Jon, what's that behind you?" the Lady Squire implored, coming towards it, curiosity driving her.

"Huh?" he pushed away from the basin, knocking something into it in the process. Alanna had glimpsed it for a brief second. Was it-could it possibly be a doll? As soon as she thought it, she chuckled at the very thought. The Duke of Conte wouldn't play with dolls.

"I haven't got a clue what that is," Jonathan shrugged, showing apparent disinterest, "And I don't think you should go snooping about it."

"I'm not going snooping!" Alanna cried, defensively, "But-aren't you curious?"

The Crown Prince's face was blank and obviously noncaring, "No. Now come on. We've dawdled here long enough."

Instead of moving away, the Trebond took one step closer to the basin, eyes wide. She had a feeling she was about to discover something very important. If only she moved the veil shielding it aside, she could discover how Roger worked.

"Alanna...," Jon warned, "Come on."

Promptly, she forced herself to turn around and leave the chamber. However, she couldn't shake the instinct that she'd just made a very big mistake.

As soon as they were out of the room, Delia came out from behind the draperies, where she was hiding. She had came here straight after Roger had announced his engagement to that whore-Alanna of Conte. The Eldorne girl hadn't expected to find her lover, dead unconcious, being led back into the room by his royal cousin and his finace. Speaking of his fiance...she was beginning to remind Delia of someone. The noble lady's eyes shone, brightly, she'd do many a thing to destroy Alanna in the eyes of her lover and fiance.

* * *

If Alanna survived tonight's ball, it would be the greatest accomplishment of her young life. Even for a Knight, this was a very dangerous task. At tonight's ball, two different girls would go to the ball. Alanna and Abigail were both attending the ball in honor of Lord Cobalt of Rigton and Eastern Scanra as the royal Niece. Abby would go, just for her father's benefit and Alanna was going for everyone else's benefit. Half the time, the Lioness would also have to pretend to be 'Alanna of Bablia', or at least when Lord Cobalt was present.

She felt sweat form around the back of her neck. Could she really masquerade as two different people at the same time? Great Mother Goddess, she could barely masquerade as one person!

Tonight, the Lady Squire couldn't even come to the ball with Thom. Lady Winfred said it would be highly inappropriate for her to be escorted by another man especially when she was bethrothed. Alanna couldn't believe she actually had to comply with these rules, especially since it wasn't really her that was bethrothed. It was Abigail, right?

'_Do I even know what's going on, anymore?_' she thought, perilously.

She arrived at the ball with Lady Winfred and Abigail, who was dressed in her full glory for the first time since she'd reached Tortall. Everyone who thought Alanna was the royal Niece, would wonder why Abby looked more like the Contes than she did. The group of them had decided to say that Abigail was a distant relative of the Contes, Xandra of Groer, one of the newer fiefs in Tortall.

As they arrived to the ball, the Lioness noticed everyone's eyes dart to Abigail, who looked very different and pretty. She was like an exotic fruit and everyone wanted a taste of her. Alanna read their eyes, knowing they were thinking, '_What's her name?_', '_Where's she from?_', '_Is she still unmarried?_'

The Lady Squire came to sit with the other members of Conte, at the table at the head of the entire Ball Room. The traditional meal would now begin. Queen Lianne sat beside King Roald as Lady Winfred settled in with Lord Cobalt. Alanna sat beside Roger, getting looks of approval from all in the room. Jonathan, Lincoln, and Abigail sat where ever was left. The Lioness' Knightmaster caught her eye and for a brief second she thought he actually looked jealous. Jealous of her and Roger? Now, _that _was a laugh. Looking into the crowd, she noticed Delia glaring at her, digging her knife into her beef, pretending it was Alanna's determined face.

"How are you this evening, lo-?" Roger started and was cut off before he could say 'love.'

"Fine. Just fine," Alanna responded, fast, noting that Lord Cobalt was watching this interaction between herself and his daughter's fiance.

"Well, that's good because I was thinking that tomorrow we would go riding and perhaps discuss plans for the we-," the Duke Conte began, smilingly.

Alanna started laughing loud enough to drown out the end of his sentence. He frowned, "What was so funny about that?"

"Oh, you're funny _and _oblivious," the Lady Squire smiled, hoping he wouldn't bring up weddings with her again, "Really, you shouldn't speak of those things with me. Take Xa with you. She's so much better at that stuff."

"Nightingale, why did she call you Xa?" Cobalt demanded to Abigail.

"Uhh...," she gave a fake chortle, "It's a nickname."

Roger raised an eyebrow and whispered so softly that only Alanna could hear, "Why does your father sweet tooth with that new lady? Is she his mistress?"

"No, no," Alanna shook her head, blushing at the preposterous guess, "He just treats her like a daughter is all."

The Duke of Conte gave her a sorrowful smile, as if it was sad that she was oblivious to the fact that her father obiviously had a mistress and was enjoying a lustful affair behind Winfred's back.

"It's true," the Trebond huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, as servingman and women came out and began serving the first course of the dinner.

"So, where are you from?" the Conte Duke asked Abby after a while. Lord Cobalt looked shocked that he didn't know.

Abigail coughed, "Uh, you know. Near Scanra."

"You should know by now, my dear nephew. After all, she _is _to be your wife," Cobalt gave a fake grin, looking offended that Roger didn't even know where Abigal was from yet.

Roger raised an eyebrow, "Excuse me? My wife?"

" 's...friend!" Alanna offered, wanting this dinner to be over. When the dancing began, she'd ask Roger to dance right away if only to drive him away from further confusion and debate with Lord Cobalt.

"What _are _you saying, girl?" Cobalt demanded, eyebrows raised high.

"My Lord," Winfred soothed, coming in on the conversation, "Listen, how about I take you on a tour of Corus with Roald and Lianne tomorrow? How does that sound?"

"We'd love for you to join us. We could even discuss the upcoming wedding," Roald grinned, speaking in his deep baritone voice.

"Sounds lovely," the Scanran Warlord agreed, giving Alanna one last glare before turning his full attention to the King and Queen.

Fortunately, he spent the rest of dinner that way, relieving Alanna and Abigail of saving their own hinds. Roger, however, kept shooting suspicious looks at Alanna and Abigail, as if he thought they were up to something. He was particularly weary of his fiance, especially since Delia had told him to watch out for her. Then again, she could've just been saying that out of envy.

"Your father has become soft-brained," Roger noted, while no one was paying attention.

Alanna stared up at him in surprise. What kind of thing was that to say to someone about their own father? Even though Lord Cobalt was not her father, Alanna couldn't help but be insulted. If someone had said that about the late Lord Alan, the Lioness would've punched their face in.

True to her word, as soon as dinner ended, the Lady Squire offered to dance with Duke Roger. He smiled at her, slightly awestruck. He hadn't expected his fiance to be so generous and kind. However, it wasn't something that comforted him. In fact, his mind was working to figure out _why _she was suddenly being so generous and kind.

After their first dance, Alanna rapidly seperated from him to go join Thom and her usual gang of squire and Knight friends. They bowed to her as she entered their presence. To her great displeasure, they didn't treat her the same. It was just because she was a lady. An engaged lady at that. In fact, every single one of them, other than Thom, was afraid to upset or offend the Duke of Conte by being overly friendly with his beloveded.

The Lioness decided to trade them up and chose to sit with Jonathan instead.

"Evening, Jon," she nodded to him, sitting down.

"Hello," he replied, gruffly.

Not even he was good company. He seemed to be dwelling on some thought. He even rejected beautiful women, who had come to ask him to dance. It was extremely uncharacteristic behavior. After all, the Prince was not one to leave a ball without a lady draped over his arm.

"What's biting you?" Alanna asked, putting aside her worries and hoping to be distracted by his own.

"Do you-do you know how long it's been since I've been with someone?" Jonathan demanded, his sapphire blue eyes glinting as they caught her own.

The Lioness scrunched up her face, "I don't know. Three weeks since you stopped courting Helena...so three weeks?"

He smiled, "I was never _with _Helena. Or, at least not in the sense I'm talking about."

"What sense are you talking about?" the Trebond furrowed her eyebrows, thinking. Her Knightmaster raised his eyebrows, as if that was explanatory, "What are you trying to say?-ohhh!"

He must have been talking about sex. Suddenly, Alanna wished she hadn't asked him what was wrong. Truthfully, while she and him were the best of friends, he often chose to talk to Raoul or Gary on these matters instead of her. She was inexperienced, embarrassed and silent on matters like these.

"Yes, oh," Jon broke his gaze to her great relief, "It's been about a month."

"Just a month?" the Lady Squire had thought it would be longer. Who had he slept with a month ago?

He ignored her last statement, continuing, "And I can't-I can't because I keep thinking of-"

He halted his sentence, looking her in the face again. She didn't know why, but she couldn't stop her face from going a beet red. Her heart started to beat a little bit faster so she leaned away from him, trying to calm herself down. Under the table their knees bumped and she blushed even more, staring down at her lap. Her pregnancy charm burned on her neck and she shifted away, so he wouldn't be able to see it.

"Alanna-," he started again but was thrown off when King Roald stood, ready to make an announcement.

His Majesty was wearing robes of royal blue and silver, both Conte and Tortall colors. His black beard grisled as he smiled at the nobility in the room. In his rosy hands, he held a package, wrapped in colorful paper. It looked like a present of some sort.

"At our last ball, my niece and my nephew were officially bethrothed under the Tortallan code of the Royal Family. Tonight, my wife, Lianne and I celebrate their joyous union with this gift we bestow upon my dearest niece, the bride-to-be," Roald beamed, broadly, making Alanna go pale, "Please, come up here and collect it with glory as you should."

Immediately, Alanna's eyes darted to Abigail. They both looked dumbfounded. Roger, Cobalt and the entire court expected their version of the royal Niece to go up and receive the gift. Shakily, both girls stood. Everyone's eyes darted between them, looking rather perplexed. Abby met Alanna in the center of the room, nudging her and linking her hand with her's.

"Smile," she murmured in her ear through her fake grin, "I've got something to say that will smooth this over."

What could she say that wouldn't make this situation awkward? Lord Cobalt looked furious, his face scarlet and his eyes bulging. Roger looked more so intrigued, wondering more and more about the complexity that he was bethrothed to.

King Roald smiled at them, even though he too was confused. He held out the package and the Scanran Conte and the Lioness reached out for it at the same time. They grinned back at him, each of them holding it with one hand.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Abigail curtsied, "Dear Alanna and I knew we had to come up here together as such good friends we are."

"Um, yes, Xa is quite correct," Alanna followed with a curtsy of her own, "Your gift is too gratefully received. Thank you."

"You are welcome, my dear niece," Roald said in turn, luckily not naming any names.

Abby and Alanna stuck side-by-side, not wanting to show one person having the present over another. Perhaps if they both held on to it, it wouldn't raise far more suspicious, especially from Lord Cobalt, who was asking too many questions.

"That was horrible," the royal Niece shook her head, miserably, "We can't keep this up for much longer. What are we going to do? Have both of us walk down the aisle?"

"Steel yourself," the Lioness bit her lip, "I have a feeling the worst is yet to come."

Two weights pushed in to sit beside Alanna. It was Lady Catherine and Helena, her wonderous Gallan family. Helena's pale brown hair cascaded past her shoulders all the way to her elbows tonight. Her gown was of a soft ivory color and it fitted her to a par. Aunt Catherine wore her usual type of gown-one that was about three sizes too small for her body shape.

"You know, my dear niece, I never would've thought to see you bethrothed to someone of power like the Duke of Conte," Catherine commented, playing with her pearl necklace, "Just don't get too comfortable where you are. I have spoken with His Grace, Roger of Conte, and I do not believe he shall keep you for long."

"And don't become close with the Crown Prince either-," Helena commenced a rant.

"Helena," Catherine interjected, coldly, "Prince Jonathan is not of your concern. He will not inherit the throne, therefore he is not of importance."

"Is there a point to this conversation?" Alanna demanded, snootily, she had better things to do with her time.

"But, of course," Lady Catherine smiled, "I just wanted to tell you, ahead of time, that I shall be the cause of your death."

The Lioness stared at her Aunt, wondering whether she was bluffing or not, "Excuse me?"

"Your wedding day will arrive soon this year," Catherine stated, eyes glinting, "And the day before I will reveal you for what you really are. An imposter. A she-male. And for that, you'll be hung on Traitor's Hill."

"You tell me this why?" the Lady Squire asked, her Aunt, not prepared to admit she was frightened by the threat.

"Why, I want it you loom over your head, that's why. I want you to carry on each day, imagining it to be one of your last. I want you to go crazy from thinking of it," Lady Catherine's voice was now a harsh whisper, "I want you to go crazy like I went crazy when I thought of how you and your brother deceived me."

"Deceived you?" Alanna scrunched up her face.

"I have not forgotten the Ghost of Honor," Catherine replied, and when Alanna looked at her in shock, she added, "Yes, I know that was you. It became almost painfully apparent after I had left Trebond."

"You're petty," the Lioness said, dryly, "A better woman than you would've been over that by now."

"Maybe I'm petty," the Gallan Lady agreed, thoughtfully, "But I'd rather be petty and alive than big-hearted and dead, wouldn't you?"

The Trebond tried to reply but in the process she ended up biting her own tongue, causing it to bleed.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hum dee da. Not much to say, but the whole Conte mess is going to be over soon. That's not to say that Lady Catherine and Helena won't be around for longer than that. They will. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter and I hope you review because I love reviews.

**winky-wink**


	20. Missing Prince

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...it fits with the time setting.

**Musical Affection: **'Bang Bang' by _Nancy Sinatra._

**Author's Note: iluvsinging333: **Totally haha.

**epobbp: **I know. I love it too. I may not be stupid, but you're definitely smart.

**Lady Knight: **Thanks. It shall be interesting.

**charlie and lola: **The 'Xa' is because that is Abigail's new allias. Oh and he recognized her because I added in that she took sips from her vial, remember? It's in there. And will Alanna be revealed? Well, you'll just have to wait and see. ((evil snickers))

**eridani: **Haha, wow. Same thing happens to be with some stories. I know, my mind is pretty crazy lol. Thank you, thank you for everything you said. I'm glad you said it has a good balance. All the things you complimented, it's really what I like to hear. Thanks once again.

**Silveni: **LOL, yeah I'll look into that...ahah...yes, it can only end in the worst possible way.

**Confusedknight: **I _know! _I must be crazy to put in another character, right? Lol...yeah I'm glad you liked it so much. It's supposed to be enjoyed like that haha. The conclusion will be...very interesting to say the least.

**lutefa: **Haha, fascinating. Ah, tornado warning! I would be freaking out lol. And, yeah, Roger _could _figure it out. Scary. oO

**Saphron: **More Jon fluff? It'll come, I promise...eventually lol. I'll fit it in somewhere.

**WitchyMage: **Haha, and I love you for reviewing, thanks! It gets me all excited when people actually like what I write.

**Queen Alanna: **What he was going to tell her will come soon. More Jon fluff soon, I swear. A sequel? I don't know. I would really have to think about it. And thanks so much for that last compliment!

**Kokari: **Lol...ok here you go.

**FanFictionFanthom: **Haha, it'll come! I swear! Fluff will come eventually!

**Odintsova: **Hmm, you put me in such a sticky situation...lol...I'm already so close to the ending. And so many people want the opposite. I will think on it. Maybe I'll fluff it up for you.

**Padme Amidala2121: **lol...Thanks.

**Queen Alanna of conte: **Omg, lol. I'll add in some A/J fluff sometime I swear. You're the fourth reviewer asking for it, that's enough for me. I know, murder on her mind now. She never seems to get a day of peace...

* * *

'_Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the former_'-Albert Einstein

* * *

"I believe I'm going to cry," Abigail whimpered, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Eleni Cooper had just concocted a potion to make her hair short and white blonde like her father's. The new hair barely brushed Abby's chin, which looked rather weak without the regal black Conte hair. There was no doubt that the royal Niece was still beautiful, just not as much as she had been before.

"I do have to do this?" Abby whined, hands fluttering to the blonde mop on her head.

Lady Winfred was losing her patience with her daughter, "Yes, you do Abby. I will not have people murmuring about how 'Xandra of Groer' looks more a Conte than the royal Niece herself. You will wear this in public and like it. You shall tell your father that it is the height of fashion. You shall tell the others that this is how you really look. Is that understood, young lady?"

Before Abigail could reply with a snide comment that would surely start a mother-daughter conflict, Alanna butted in, "It's really not that bad. I like it."

"You think so?" the Scanran Conte asked, wanting desperately to hear that she was still beautiful.

The Lioness nodded, "Yes, I'm sure my lady Winfred would agree?"

She stared pointedly at the royal Aunt, urging her to tell Abigail she looked perfectly nice. Winfred stroked her neck, "I would. You look lovely, Abby."

Lady Winfred turned to "Now, Eleni, dear, how much would you like for this vial of potions?"

As the two women began to settle a deal, Alanna drifted away from them to the window. Unfortunately, she was stuck being Alanna of Conte/Bablia for the day, whilst Thom got to battle other squires and practice swordsplay. Sitting at the window seat, the Lady Squire stared down into the courtyard before her. Snow was falling heavily this January day, making the world outside entirely white.

To the right of the courtyard, near the entrance, about seven servingmen scurried about readying a carriage for some noble or the other. The men had their thin cloaks hugged tight around their bodies as they harnessed the beautifully white stallions. Suddenly a distraction came from another corner of the courtyard, two figures, dressed in black and violet respectively came out through the palace doors. On closer inspection, Alanna realized it was a pair of noble ladies. Delia and Helena.

They had their backs turned to the window Alanna was spying through so they didn't notice her watching them. They looked to be doing nothing seemingly interesting, although the Trebond could not help but follow their every movement. For a second they did nothing but sit on a bench idly and talk. Gossiping most likely. Why did they not do that indoors where it was far warmer?

The doors to enter the courtyard opened and Jon, Geoffery and Raoul rode in. They got off their horses, unsaddling them. Obviously, they had just returned from a quick and hearty ride. Alanna wished she could've joined in with a large desperate longing. She was tired of being a lady. Instantly, Helena and Delia were swatting around them, all the ardent admirers.

They chatted for a while in a big group. Then, Helena whispered something in the Crown Prince's ears, leading him away from the rest of them. They began walking, the Gallan slipped, the Prince stopped her from falling by grabbing her hand, tightly. After straightening her, he didn't let go of her hand. Alanna felt her breath catch a little in her chest. The pair of them, looking the most smartest match, started walking side by side, swaying gently and talking about things that the Lioness wished she could hear. In a second, Helena jumped away from him, laughing. She squealed, loudly enough for Alanna to hear through the glass of her window, and threw a snowball at him. It hit him in the face in a comic sort of way. He grinned at her, wiping off his face. He quickly gathered a lump of snow in his fist, ready to throw it at her. Immediately, Helena began a mad dash, running away from him as fast as she could. The both of them disappeared through the entrance of the courtyard. Alanna faintly saw them running into the royal forest before they vanished from view.

She turned away from the window, leaning her head against the wall. Eleni waved goodbye to her, already finished haggling prices and packing up her belongings. Alanna managed a faint smile, her mind still on Helena and Jonathan. Was it horrible of her to want him even though she knew very well so that she couldn't have him? He simply wasn't in her destiny. No man was. Then why did it wound her so to see him with someone else, nice and happy? Was that tingling, overwhelming feeling in her gut just infatuation as she had thought, or something more?

"Prettyness, what's wrong?" Winfred demanded, noticing her sour look.

In the place where she usually would've said, 'Nothing', she made no sound at all. She didn't really care if people knew something was wrong with her. She was tired of hiding her feelings, of making up lies. This whole giant mess was one big lie. She'd even fibbed to Jon, just because she hadn't wanted to tell him the truth. The horrible and yet, almost thrilling fact that she-that she was in...in that one frightening feeling. What that feeling was, she wouldn't dare say. To anyone. Ever.

The royal Aunt and her royal daughter were just exchanging looks on their Lady Squire's odd behavior when a knock came at the door. Abby stood, nervously patting her hair as she went to get it. Alanna stifled a groan as she saw the Duke of Conte step over the threshold. He was wearing a deep red cloak and tanned boots, ready to face the freezing cold of the winter outside. He bowed to all three of them, smiling. As he rose he gave the Lioness the smallest of winks that made her want to give him the biggest of slaps.

"Aunt Winfred, Lady Xandra, dearest Alanna, it is a pleasure to see you all," he gushed, stepping forward as the cape of his cloak flapped behind him, impressively.

The three of them murmured the same, curtsying in turn. The Trebond was feeling extremely apprehensive at his being here. What could he possibly want now?

"Would you care for some tea, dear nephew?" Winfred inquired, kindly, her acting was perfect to the very last curl in her dark hair, "I can call my servingmaid Carly to go brew some, what do you say?"

"I'd rather not," Roger declined, "I was actually here regarding Alanna."

She had hoped his visit had nothing to do with her, but she supposed that was really too much to ask for. Not letting herself slip out of her ladylike trance for even a second she beamed, broadly, "Oh me? Why ever so?"

"I had thought we could take a ride to the city and perhaps look at patterns for tablecloth for our wedding? Perhaps even lunch at some well-to-do restaurant?" the Conte Duke offered so politely that any mother's heart would melt.

Why did he want to take her out? She knew as sure as a bee sting that he didn't care a pint for her. Something must be on his mind. Alanna glanced quickly at Abigail, suspecting it was her that had raised his suspicion in her. She sighed, hoping she really wouldn't have to go along. However it seemed she and the royal Aunt were not on the same wave length for she replied with a simple, "Alright, I suppose that would be in order."

Alanna's mouth fell open in outrage but before she could say anything, Winfred glared at her and gave a furious shake of her head. The Lady Squire obeyed, shocked that she took Winfred's word to law, something to follow without question. She had not always been so obedient. Then again, she had not always had a mother-like figure so close to her. The Lioness shut her mouth, almost on the verge of pouting. However, she would not lower herself to complete Delia-like behavior.

"Positively wonderful, may we leave now then, love?" Roger questioned, sweetly. He hadn't been so sweet that night Lincoln had tried to interrogate him.

"I prefer to be called Alanna actually," she corrected, her fire not entirely died out.

"Fine, then, _Alanna_," he compiled, but by his tone she could tell he was displeased, "Shall we leave?"

There was no excuse for her to say no so she nodded, sullenly. Grabbing her navy blue cloak, she placed her hand on his forearm (begrudgingly) and was out the door. But not even she stuck her head in and made a face of utter disgust, causing Abby to laugh and Winfred to frown whilst hiding a smile.

* * *

"Then she made me sit with the poor girl all day in hopes of having us fall in love," Raoul grumbled, complaining about his annoying great aunt, "As if anyone could fall in love with her breathing down their necks!"

"Now, was there ever anything that made you happier?" Geoffery had a slopy grin on his face, as the Prince and his two friends rode into the Palace courtyard after a winding ride through Corus.

"You find that my great aunt makes you happy? If so, tell me now. I could help you with your game plan...she _is _single, you know...," Raoul teased, his face grinning where it would have been scowling just a second ago.

Jon laughed just as the younger noble growled, "Shut you! I was talking about those swans over there."

The elder Knights raised their heads and noticed Ladies Delia and Helena chatting on a bench not too far away. As the three of them rode in, the young ladies stood, looking to greet them. Raoul scrunched up his face, displeased. Geoffery was his opposite, practically calling them over with his wishful thinking. The Crown Prince couldn't be more neutral, although he was slightly smug. However, all in all, it didn't phase him that these women had come flocking to them. To him. Women had been all over him since he was the tender age of thirteen.

The young noblemen jumped off their steads, unsaddling the horses. Delia and Helena had come so close now, that he could smell the strong, overbearing scent of their lilac perfume.

"Your Highness, Sirs Raoul and Jerry," they chorused, politely, bowing.

"It's Geoffery actually," the squire corrected, his smile fading a little. But only a little.

"Uh huh," Delia nodded, unconcerned, "So, how are you today, gentlemen?"

"Alright," Jonathan nodded, flashing a brief charming smile.

"Fantastic," Geoffery beamed, trying to stand taller.

"I'm cold," Raoul whined, staring pointedly at Jon, urging him to make up an excuse to avoid talking to the two ladies.

Delia's green eyes had never looked more emerald. She flickered her lashes up to the Palace behind them for a second before lowering them again. Jon followed her gaze, glancing at a foggy window for a brief moment. Someone looked to be watching them from up there, but he couldn't really tell. It could be the draperies for all he knew. Helena laughed at something Raoul said, diverting his attention from the window-watcher.

"Just came from a ride, did you? To where, Corus?" Delia questioned, making pleasantries, which was unlike her.

'_What does she want now?_' the heir to the throne wondered to himself. When someone knows Delia like he knew Delia, they generally guessed that she wanted for herself when she was kind. What in the world could she be up to?

"Your Highness," a sudden whisper came in his ear, "May we take in private, please?"

Jonathan reeled back a bit, studying Helena. Alanna would kill him if he was seen speaking with her cousin again, but then again, it was probably nothing but harmless, right? After all, what the Lady Squire didn't know, couldn't hurt her. The Gallan Lady's grey eyes met his blue ones with a beautiful sheen, "Of course, my lady."

He had never been good at turning down beauty. The two of them broke away from the group and Jonathan could practically feel Raoul shooting spiteful daggers into the back of his handsome head.

Stepping one a sleet of ice, Helena slipped, near falling. Jon grabbed her hand in a swift motion, breaking the fall. She smiled up at him, through perfect light brown bangs. The Tortallan Prince tried to remove his hand from her grasp but she held strong and in the end, he let her. It was more an action of throwing her a bone than anything else. Truth is, Jon still felt guilty for breaking her poor little heart at Midwinter time and no matter what Alanna said, she had been nothing but kind to him.

"You wanted to talk to me, Lady Helena?" he asked, looking ahead at the snowy Tortallan landscape.

"Quite right. I wanted to speak of my cousin, Lady Alanna," the Gallan explained.

"You mean _my _cousin Alanna," Jonathan said, exaggerating the 'my'.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," Helena replied, choppily, "I'm not stupid, you know."

He gave in. Obviously she knew Alanna of Trebond and Alanna of Conte were the same person. She also knew that he knew. There was no point in playing silly games by hiding it now.

"Say what you wanted to say," he sighed, awfully sick and tired of his squire's long-running charade.

"Well, I just wanted to give you my approval," she answered, giving him a sneer of a smile, "And that of my mother's. You two will make a lovely pair."

Jon laughed, "She doesn't love me."

"But you love her and that's all that matters, doesn't it? You're Prince, practically King. Your word is law. If you want my Trebond cousin to marry you, she'll have to," Helena smirked, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

"I don't want to force her into marrying me," the Crown Prince responded, icily.

"Of course you don't," she giggled, rolling her eyes, "And don't get all stiff on me now."

She jumped away from him, chuckling. She snatched up some snow from the ground, balling it up with gloved hands.

He eyed her wearily, "What, in Mithros' name, do you plan to do with that?"

Helena gave a shrill squeal and through a snowball that went _splat_ in his face. He wiped it off, grinning, all thoughts of Alanna and love and marriage gone. For all that he was, Jonathan was extremely competitive. He was promptly melding a snowball of his own. Within seconds, it was ready to be thrown at his opponent. Helena screamed, running away from him. He followed, at a fast pace. He had thought to outrun her in no time at all, but she was faster than he expected. Soon, he was following her into the royal forest, without a second thought. He never imagined anything horrible could come of his little escapade.

* * *

Out in the corridors of the palace, the Duke of Conte and the Trebond passed other nobles who grinned, approvingly, at seeing them together. Roger smiled and nodded at them in turn. Oh, they were the very picture of a happy engagement. Except for the fact that the bride-to-be had the largest scowl on her face. Alanna couldn't help but be displeased at being in such close proximity to Roger of Conte.

Once they came out into the courtyard, Alanna noticed the carriage with the white stallions. It was waiting for her and Roger. She frowned, he had been so assured that she would agree to this little escapade that he had ordered the carriage set-up even before she'd been permitted to join him. He barked at the servingmen, telling them to get to their stations, some as footmen and another as a driver. The men skirmished and stood, righteously, in their proper spots. One of them opened the door to the pale green carriage, bowing to the both of them. The Duke of Conte tried to nudge her forward but she stood steady and shot him a glare before taking her own sweet time getting into the carriage. He could stand out there in the cold waiting for her to get in for a century for all she cared.

However, in a minute, they were both settled in their seats, their breaths coiling out from their mouths inside the frigid wooden box. Unspeakingly, Roger used his Gift to internally warm the carriage. The driver lashed his whip and the horses set off on a trot with a gentle sway. The carriage chatter was seemingly awkward.

"Know you that I enjoy the hunt, my dear cousin?" the Conte Duke implored, his voice as smooth as pond water, "In fact today I shall be off chasing deer with your very own father and Lady Catherine of Galla."

"What do I care?" the Trebond drawled, her head against the window, staring out.

"You become more disobedient by the day," Roger spat, his temper flaring in private. He saved his mask of charm only for the public.

"I'm not some servant you can order about at you will!" Alanna retorted, her face getting red.

"Oh but you are. For when we are married, I will be God and you nothing but my trophy!" he cried, then settled himself. It was unlike him to yell. His calm composure was back in about two minutes.

"Strange, as I remember, God backwards is dog," the Lioness smiled, her eyes glinting dangerously, "Are you a dog too, my dear fiance?"

At first it seemed the Conte Duke was about to reprimand her with a shout, turn her into a frog, massacre her with his bare hands. However, he just sat back and laughed. His finding dry humor in the situation creeped the Lady Squire out. She shivered, wishing he'd stop his insisten cackles.

"You know, at first I felt bad for using you just for my better ends. You seemed such a sweet, mindless, girl when I went to visit you in Scanra. However, now that I understand you, I shall enjoy making you pay," he said, finally, and she fought the urge to shudder.

She crossed her arms over her chest in stuborness, "I won't suffer because I shan't be marrying you. I won't marry my cousin. It is nothing but wrong."

"His Majesty, King Roald didn't seem to think so," Roger shot back, "And the sooner you get over the cousin issue, the better. You may as well know now that we _will _breed and that a pure heir will finally rule inherit the Tortallan throne."

"I'm part Scanran, remember? Your child will be as pure as the blood of Sarain," Alanna snapped, her stomach twirling over at the thought of partaking in carnal actions with the Conte Duke.

"And soon your body will be as blue as the peaks of Tusaine," Roger said with just a steely reserve that it sent the conversation down the drain until the pair reached the city. The whole time, all Alanna could think about was her seemingly unescapable destiny.

* * *

Upon returning to the Palace, it was apparent that something was wrong. Squires and pages were running about in a frenzy, readying the horses of many a Knight to be ridden. The King's advisors were no where to be seen, obviously busy in council, the Queen's ladies had delayed their typical tea party and all the other nobility were scurrying about gossiping in packs whilst the Heralds were declaring that everyone should keep to the safety of the Palace. But the biggest clue that something was wrong was the restlessness in the air. Not a bird was in the sky and the clouds were stuck in place, a cloudy gray.

Roger, however, seemed unphased, though slightly perturbed by curiousity. He left Alanna in the courtyard where they'd took off from and stalked off, seemingly to find out what was up. Stefan, the hostler, eyed the Lady Squire as he harnessed a horse. The Lioness breathed in, taking in the options. Perhaps there was war? Or could it be simple bandits? Maybe a flood was coming their way?

"It's almost sad to see you thinking so hard and coming up with nothing," Delia, who had only been a shadow against the stables a second before, snickered, "Then again, perhaps the word I'm looking for is pathetic."

"What do you want, Lady Delia?" Alanna demanded through gritted teeth, "Can't you see I'm not in the mood to explain to you what two plus two is?"

The Lady Eldorne laughed, her tone high-pitched, "Your funny. But you won't be laughing once you find out what's happened to your precious Prince."

Suddenly, the Lioness was all ears, "Jonathan? What's the matter with him?"

"He's missing; kidnapped. Presumed dead, unfortunately," Delia sighed, looking truely sorrowful, "What a shame, huh? Especially with a handsome face like that-"

"Wait," the Trebond interrupted, "When did he go missing?"

"Two, three hours ago," the Eldorne shrugged, playing with the clasp on her cloak, "It's a pity you never got to say goodbye."

It had been three hours since Alanna had been away from the Palace and even though, in no way was she to blame for this tragic turn of events, she couldn't help but feel guilty. The one time when she had felt the Palace for such a long period of time in months and the Prince goes and gets himself kidnapped! She swallowed the lump groaning in her throat as Delia's words echoed in her head.

'_Presumed dead. Dead. Dead._'

He couldn't be dead. Not yet. Perhaps there was still a chance she might save him. Her mind was swirling, thinking of the last time she'd seen him that day. As soon as the question entered her mind, the answer struck her. Last she'd seen, Jonathan had been with Helena, running off to the royal forest. Hundreds of dangers awaited those forests. He could've been attacked by a wolf or stuck in a bear trap.

"Has anyone seen Helena?" Alanna questioned, her tongue fighting to work faster than her mind.

"No, but who cares with the Prince missing?" Delia raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp.

Without a word, the Lioness raced to the nearest saddled horse, mounting it. Her cloak whipped out behind her.

"Aye!" a hostler screamed, shaking his fist at her, "That's for Sir Fireth! Return this instant!"

However, she did not heed his words. Instead, she kicked the mare to a charge and rode off into the royal forest. Delia smiled, slowly, not expecting anything else of the girl. It was amazing how easily she was qualled by a simple trick.

'_Fool,_' Delia thought, turning about. Stefan, the hostler, stared at her, eyes wide.

"I suggest you get a portrait," Delia snapped, her manners dead and evaporated, "Because if you keep planning on staring at me I may have to gouge your eyes out."

The hostler was not bothered which directly bothered Delia. She pushed past him on her way into the castle, "Commoner scum."

Stefan waited till she was gone to begin writing a message in the code of the Rogue to George. The King of Thieves had told the chief hostler to keep a watch on the royal Niece, for reasons only he knew. Surely he would want to know that the lass was rushing off into forests to rescue the missing Prince, though, Stefan doubted such a fiery young lady (even if she was noble) would need watching over.

* * *

The forest was alive with subtle sounds of winter. Alanna rode on a horse she had renamed Spots to suit her liking because he was gray and had white spots all over his adorable coat. She stroked his neck, trying to comfort herself. Twigs crackled under the stead's hooves, unnerving her. In the distant, she heard the faraway hoot of a snowy owl and heard the flap as it took flight.

The Lioness searched with her eyes, trying desperately to find any sign of Jonathan or Helena anywhere. She wished Faithful or Thom were here to guide her with the reassurance of a Gift. She certainly didn't want to use her own.

The cold was almost unbearable. Several times Alanna thought of turning back but then she pictured her Knightmaster and cousin as some beast's dinner and she again was determined to save them both. Her heart was beating loudly, though she didn't understand why. She'd been in the forest millions of times and had never been phased. What was it about this particular time? What foreboding, what horrors did it hold?

'_Why do I leave as if I shall not be returning to the Palace in one piece?_' she pondered, her breath catching in her throat.

Up ahead, the Trebond noticed a fire burning. The flames stuck out like a sore thumb because although it was daylight, the weak winter sun barely leaked in through the forest canopy. A clearing was slowly coming into view. Alanna jumped off Spots, leading the mare by the reins. A sole figure stood near the fire, cloak bound around their wiry body. Coming into the clearing, the Lioness realized it was Helena and she had a manical gleam in her eyes.

"I knew you would come," she said, softly, "I knew you would come to find your Prince. And he thinks you don't love him. How ironic."

The Lady Squire was in no mood to talk to riddles, "Well, obviously you're unharmed. Just tell me where Jonathan is and let's go."

The Gallan chortled, "Uh, uh, uh. Not so fast. First you answer a few questions and then I'll tell you where he is."

"Ok, that's it, bitch. Shall we wrestle?" Alanna offered, since she had no arms on her. She was posing as a lady after all. "I've been just dying to tear you apart since the Queen's Tea Party jubilee."

Helena smiled, "How about you wrestle a few of my friends first?"

"Wha-?" Alanna straightened, an eyebrow arched.

She turned around and saw about a dozen men, all ones she recognized to be bandits, coming out between the nooks of two trees, the highest branches and even some out of bushes. Great Mother Goddess! I could she have been so stupid to get herself into this situation?

However, instead of wailing and whining like most other ladies, she took it levelheaded. Arching her shoulders back, she hunched low, wishing for the hundreth time that she knew the tricks of the Shang. Spitting on the snow covered ground, she gestured the bandits foward.

They came, no holds bars. While Alanna was a prominent fighter, she was out of practice and in all truth, her small stature never helped in this particular sport. They had her held tight in about five minutes, although it took five of them to hold her. Alanna breathed, raggedly. Never had she hated Helena more than she did now.

"By the Black God! That'un nearly took my right eye out!" one of the bandits muttered, "I believe we ought t'be paid more fer that'un. She's a noble lady, right 'n' true but she's got some commoner trainin'."

It's true she had. Thank George Cooper, the King of Thieves.

"Speak again and I'll cut your tongue," Helena threatened, "And I told you, my mother and I'll pay you once this job is done."

"Now," she grinned, changing her tone completely, "Are you ready to answer my question? After that I shall let you go and tell you the whereabouts of your paramour."

In the dim shadow of trees just outside the clearing, Alanna noticed three people standing there on horses. Perhaps if they came closer they'd seen her and save her. However, they may just pass her by. The Lioness decided she had a better shot at answering a few stupid questions.

"Firstly, tell me, do you have the Gift? Are you a socceress," Helena demanded.

Alanna blanched, not expecting that particular question, "You know that I do, idiot. But I am hardly a socceress."

The Gallan's eyes glinted, "Are you a liar? Have you been lying to the King and Queen and Prince?"

"No!" the Trebond snapped back, "I would never lie to my sovereigns."

"Are you sure? Haven't you been presuming a fake identity in their presence?" Helena questioned, her behavior and body language edged with hate.

The Lioness breathed in, "Yes but I cannot help that. That again, you already know."

"Hmm...lastly, may I ask, do you love the Prince?" her cousin inquired, a wind picking up the tips of her skirts and cloak and hair, making her look as if she were standing on the spot.

Alanna barked out a shaggy laugh, "Kill me."

It was Helena's turn to be confused, she blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Kill me now because I'm not even going to dignify that question with a response," the Lady Squire smirked, she had won.

"Fine, good Sirs, what do you say? Shall we slay the Prince?" Helena suggested, her question getting roars of approval.

The Lioness paled. She was struggling internally. Answer the question and despise the reply all her life or not say a word and be the cause of her own death and Jonathan's. The dilema was worse than one might think. Alanna bit her tongue, blood soaring into her mouth. Ow. Ow. Ow. Oh. Oh. Oh. She couldn't say it. It was just too horrible to bear. To disgusting to utter...but Helena didn't look like she would let up.

"Alright!" the Lady Squire finally yelped, as if she'd been burned, "I'll tell you."

Helena's interest was at its peak, "Yes?"

"I love him," Alanna whispered, scared of the words she'd spoken. This was an all-time low. When she was out of this situation, she would cut Helena's head off and rejoice in the spilling of her blood. Or a more probably alternative was slipping spiders in her bed.

"What was that?" Helena demanded, being a true nussaince as she held her hand to her ear in exaggeration.

"For Mithros' sake! I love him!" Alanna shouted, fighting against the arms of men that held her fast.

Helena played with her skirts, whirling them. She was the very picture of pleased. She laughed and laughed and laughed. The laughter drowned out Alanna's own thoughts as they played through her head.

"Now tell me where Jon is!" she yelled, to be heard above the noise, "Tell me where he is before the whole of Tortall is out looking for him and you get into real trouble!"

Just then, the three dark figures on horses broke their way into the clearing. Duke Roger, Lord Cobalt and Lady Catherine. The first two looked dumbfounded and the latter was smug, pleased with the damage she'd helped cause. Suddenly Alanna realized s_he _was the one in real trouble. The three of them had obviously been on their hunt that Conte Duke had mentioned on the trip to the city and Catherine had led them here to witness Alanna's confession. Loving the Prince, fake identities, being a sorcceress.

"Lord Cobalt, your daughter is a harlott. A hypocrite too. Just this morning she told me she wouldn't dare marry her cousin and now she declares an undying love for the Crown Prince," Roger stated, the venom in his voice apparent.

"My daughter?" the Scanran Warlord blinked, "She is no daughter of mine. My daughter is Abigail. Abby?"

"The servingmaid?" Roger frowned, scrunching up his face.

"Servingmaid! I bed your pardon!" Cobalt cried, insulted.

"Oh my! What havoc!" Lady Catherine gasped, hand to her bosom. She shot a quick glare at Alanna, smiling. Her daughter was wearing close to the very same expression. The two of them had triumphed and Alanna had lost.

The Lioness' head was spinning, but she managed to ask one last question, "Helena, where is Jonathan?"

"Right now?" Helena grinned, obviously enjoying the best treat of all, "Why, he's at the Dancing Dove enjoying a few drinks is all, silly."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Quite a crucial chapter, hey? So many problems revealed! Ahhh! What shall happen? Lol...it's so horrible for Alanna isn't it? And what confessions! Haha, and just so you know, Roger wasn't in on this plan. He's just as shocked as anyone else. This plan was made by Helena, Catherine and Delia to out Alanna. Anyway, click in next chapter. It's going to be good, hehehe.

**winky-wink**


	21. Into the Cage

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...it fits with the time setting.

**Musical Affection: **'I'm a Let Down' by _Bif Naked._

**Author's Note: **Now I don't need to write thank-you's here. I can just review reply. Wow, really, how high-tech is that. How high-tech? _Really _high-tech. My god-just wow, I am impressed and astounded and sorry if I sound stupid and am just mumbling. Ok, back to the story. Wait, no. I just wanted to reply here to anonymous reviewers who don't have accounts. Here it is:

**Sgoswami: **I agree with everything you say! The plots are always Alanna-goes-to-convent, especially in the cases of A/J. And thanks for the great compliments. It means a lot to hear something so thoughtful. I like it too! But it seems everyone _does _hate Jonathan. Especially the A/G shippers. I mean, I don't hate George just because I like A/J. Anywho, thanks once again. Happy Belated Thanksgiving to you too!

**epobbp: **LOL, I am_ so _glad someone actually found it funny!

**Lady Knight: **I know. It was totally embarrassing. And now that Alanna is sort of revealed, events will unfold in a quick succession. And thanks for the compliments!

Oh and any reviewers I didn't put up here or neither did I message to, I just didn't really have much to say except **thank you!**

Now, back to the story. Ok, it should be about five more chapters at the most, I suspect. It's a guess but I'm pretty sure I'm right. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it all the way to the end 'cause I enjoyed writing it thus far.

* * *

'_Hope if the dream of a soul awake_'-French Proverb

* * *

"_And he took his lady by the hand_

_Claimed he ought to be her man_

_Rose in one palm, a beer in the other_

_Watch what you do with that'un_

_Oh, watch what you do!_

_Or soon you'll find yourself a futher!_"

It was barely sunset and already most of the men of the Dancing Dove were dumb drunk. Most except for Prince Jonathan and the King of Thieves, George Cooper, who sat in a darkened corner, looking at one of their more boisterous friends dance on the tabletop with amusement. Both the Prince and the Rogue took carefully measured sips of their drinks, not wanting to embarrass themselves so early in the evening.

"Oy! Oy, boys! What're we all doin' standin' 'bout an' singin'?" Tanner, probably the drunkest man at the Dove, shouted, "We should all be outside, meetin' the women! To the brothel I say! To the brrrothel!"

"Brrrothel?" one of George's closest adviors slurred his words, "What brrrothel? Y'mean, the beewty parlour?"

"Brothel, beauty parlor, it's the same damn thin'!" Tanner exclaimed, "What d'yeh say, men? Are we off?"

"We're off! We're off!" the others yelled in return, rushing out the door.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Jonathan asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

"What for? Rispah an' the ladies at the parlor can 'andle 'emselves fine," George waved a hand, grinning, "They'll be returnin' awfully sore in an hour."

Jon smiled, glad he'd come to the Dancing Dove today. The trip had been spurr of the moment, really. After chatting with Helena for a bit, she'd talked of going into Corus and the allure was too strong for him to let go. It had been his first visit in two months and it was a long time coming. The best part about coming into the pub was feeling exactly the same as everyone else. No one here knew that he would soon be King of Tortall and those who knew didn't act on it.

Yer Majesty, there's a bird 'ere with a letter fer you," Solom, the owner of the pub, called from the bar, "Looks t'be Stefan's bird."

The King of Thieves straightened, looking perturbed. There was no reason for a letter to be coming from Stefan today. Not unless there was an emergency. After all, George _had _told his closest Palace spy to watch over Alanna of Conte and Alan of Trebond like a hawk.

"Bring it 'ere," George ordered, trying not to look too concerned yest it fire up the Prince.

Solom, who was an aged but cheery man, brought it to him, giving Jon a toothy grin as he did so. The Rogue took the letter from his sausage fingers that were only nimble when holding money, and began to read. His eyes darted across the messy parchment and his mind didn't register the message. He glanced up at the line, '_The Prince has gone missing_' and studied the man sitting across the table from him. He looked like Jonathan. He smelled like Jonathan (all royalty smelled the same). He talked like Jonathan. But then why did Stefan say the Prince had been kidnapped?

"What does it say?" the heir the throne inquired, his eyes a deep blue with curiousity.

"Tell me, when was the firs' time we met?" George answered a question with a question.

For a second, Jonathan blanched, confused. However, he regained his composure and replied, slowly, "Well, we first met when Alan-here he glanced at Solom because the elder man had no clue about Alanna's real sex-came to buy a horse from you. And, may I ask, _why _am I answering this quest-"

"An' what would be th'name of th'horse?" George quizzed, wanting to be sure he had the real thing in front of him.

"Moonlight," the Prince responded, furrowing his eyebrows, "_Now _may I know why you asked such questions?"

The Rogue's face was set in a grim line. He slid the Stefan's letter under Jon's vision and grunted, "Read this. It's in Rogue code. Vowels in dots. All other letters in dashes. And those lines decifer which one exactly."

Jon squinted his eys, as if that would help him decifer it better. However, it still took him a good ten minutes to read a letter that would normally have taken two.

_Your Majesty,_

_Trouble at House on the Hill. The Prince has gone missing. King and Queen distressed. Knights being sent out in search party. Conte niece has rode off into forest on her own to find Prince. Eldorne girl pretty much talked her into going. Seems to be planning something. Galla visitors seem to be involved. _

_In Your Service,_

_Servant S_

"Missing? I have not gone missing!" Jonathan huffed, indignant, "Mithros! I'm gone for a few hours and they think I'm missing!"

"It don't matter whether y'have or not. All th'crazies up at th'Palace believe y'have. And 'Lanna 'as gone after you. Alone," George tutted, shaking his head, "She's foolish t'run off without anyone t'cover 'er back. That'll be the downfall of that'un. Thinks she needs nobody."

"What do you suggest we do?" Jon demanded, wondering what type of trouble was exactly brewing at the Palace.

"Only one thin' t'do. Off to th'forest we go," George smiled, sourly.

He stood, grabbing a cloak off one of the hooks near the door. The Crown Prince glimpsed the innards of the cloak for a brief second and saw that it was loaded with about eight daggars in strategically placed positions. Whatever trouble there was in the forest, he didn't envy it.

* * *

"So," Roger scowled, getting off his pale white stallion, "If this girl isn't your daughter, who is she?"

"Why, Alanna of Bablia of course!" Lord Cobalt replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Bablia?" Lady Catherine shrieked, falling into outbreaks of laughter with Helena.

"My dear Lady, I beg your pardon, but what is so funny?" the Scanran Warlord demanded, nose upturned, as he gracefully jumped off his ash brown stead.

"What's funny is that there is no fief by the bame of Bablia," the Duke of Conte finished, his eyebrows raised high.

Alanna could tell that his brain was working a mile a minute. Never had he been has dumbfounded as he was now. In fact, the Conte Duke was the one who hoodwinked, not the one who _was _hoodwinked. But this...was entirely different. His niece-his fiance-the woman he had even endured a punch to obtain was not the person he thought she was. Or so her supposed father said. But then why were his Aunt Winfred and cousin Lincoln claiming her as their own? Could it really be that the real royal Niece was Abigail the servingmaid?

In the freezing cold, the Trebond still managed to save herself from being numb so she was able to feel fingers treading up her back under her gown, trying to untie the strings on her corset. A purple rage seethed through her body. They could keep her captive but they most certainly couldn't touch any part of her body!

Straightening, she kicked her leg backwards, knocking the butterfingered bandit onto his rear end. The other bandits roared when she did this and the Lioness promptly had a swift punch to her chin. Alanna gasped, not expecting it. Truthfully, she hadn't been hit once since her page years. Then again, she had never been bound down by the strength of five bandits either.

After she was hit, Roger barked at the men, "Don't touch her you brutes!"

For a brief moment, Alanna thought that perhaps he had some good in him.

"If she is really a socceress in disguise, I want to be the one to inflict pain upon her," the Duke added, his eyes piercing right through her.

Then again, it was silly to think Roger could be anything but malevolent.

"Listen, nephew, I don't know what you've been told but this girl is most certainly not my daughter. You even heard her claim she's been presuming a fake identity up at the Palace. Who knows who she _really _is," Cobalt snarled, glaring at Alanna as if the very thought of her pretending to be _his _child was preposterous, even insulting.

"We know who she really is, mother and I," Helena stated, relishing in her newfound attention as everyone's gaze fell upon her.

Would she really give it all away? All these precious years Alanna had been working to become a Knight all for naught? A fruitless battle, that's what it would be. Alanna could not stand seeing her life's work thrown down the drain.

"She is-," Helena paused, glancing at Alanna, who shook her head, furiously, pleading with her eyes, "She is Alanna of Trebond."

Somewhere in the distance, the Lioness heard an owl hooting. Perhaps it was the same one that had screeched when she had entered the forest. Maybe it had been warning her then. Maybe it was warning her now. Disaster was in the works.

"Trebond?" Roger breathed and Alanna swore that there was steam coming out of his ears, "_Trebond?_"

"My niece," Catherine smirked, "That's what I wanted to tell you at the Rose Walk the other day, Your Grace."

"Then why have Aunt Winfred and cousins Lincoln and...Abigail aided her to disguise her charade?" the Conte Duke asked, clenching and unclenching his hands into tight, strained, fists.

Before either Helena or Lady Catherine could reply, Alanna interjected, "I bewitched them."

The other four glanced at her. Helena looked furious at her for speaking, "Your Grace, that's not-"

"Silence," Roger ordered, his sapphire eyes sinking in on the Lady Squire, "You bewitched them, little one?"

"I _am _a socceress," the Trebond went on, hoping her babbling was buying her time.

Immediately, Alanna felt Roger using his Gift to probe her for the magnitude of her own. He wanted to know if her Gift would suffice for a spell so complex. The Lioness despaired; her magic was weak in comparision to Thom's.

"Your Gift is strong," the Duke of Conte declared, surprising her. He looked worried, "What did you want out of this?"

"I...," her mind was blank yet she needed to think up something fast, "I...wanted to be royalty. To be...close...to the-um-the Pr-Prince."

"She lies!" Catherine spat, her eyes flaring.

"I did not ask you to speak, Lady Catherine!" Roger whirled on them, anger at its peak, "I advise you to keep quiet lest I say otherwise!"

Both women was instantly reprimanded. They seemed to almost curl into one another like a dry leaf furls in the autumn. Roger glared at them both, face losing its red lustre and his fuming calming down. Breathing in deeply, trying to rearrange his composure, he faced Alanna.

"You've been using beautifying potion to alter your appearance," the Conte Duke noted, just from looking at her, "That is why you knew how to convict Alexander of Tirragen. It all becomes clear. However, your true glamour is not. Let me look upon your real face, shall I?"

A violent gust of orange magic swept through the Lioness, shattering what effect Eleni's potion had on her. She felt her hair go short, barely brushing chin, and her eyes probe as they became a bright, intensifying violet. Within a minute, she was her actual self. Roger looked her over, his expression unreadable. As far as he was concerned, he was looking at Alan of Trebond in a gown with breasts.

"What is Alan of Trebond to you? Brother? Cousin?" Roger inquired, arching a smooth, dark, eyebrow.

For a second, the young squire blanched. It took about another two minutes to register in her head that the mage before her hadn't comprehended that she and Alan of Trebond were one in the same. Perhaps-perhaps if she played things right, she could get out of this situation alive and with her reputation?

"He is my brother," the Lady Squire tried to look guilty, as if she were admitting her worst secret, "He did not recognize me because I magicked him also."

"He was not your accomplice?" the Duke of Conte wanted to know, hoping to have some reason to throw his mortal enemy in the dungeons again.

"No," the Trebond shook her head, looking convincingly even though she was lying between her teeth.

"Did you honesty believe you could escape from such a trecherous masquerade unscathed?" the Conte Duke demanded, shaking his head in dismay, "Even with your own Aunt and cousin at the Palace?"

"Fool, she's a fool," Cobalt snorted, his creamy white face showing the slight pink tinge of rage, "But what shall we do with her?"

"We will do the only thing we can do. We shall return her to the Palace and place her in a premier suite in the Tortallan dungeons. We can only hope to see her moved to Traitor's Hill soon," Roger replied, not even flinching as he said this. Alanna, on the other hand, felt as if she had just been slapped. Dungeons? Traitor's Hill?

"What's 'bout us?" a bandit demanded, "Th'purdy brunette told us we'd get paid!"

"Did she now?" the Conte socceror asked, shooting a brief glance in Helena's direction, "Well, then, what would you like to be paid in? Sword wounds or magical burns?"

"Sword wounds!" one of the grisly men cried, outraged.

"Magic it is then. I prefer it, myself," The Duke of Conte grinned, sternly, shooting out bolts of his Gift. One of the orange shots ripped through one of the bandits, killing him instantly. The others began to run for fear of their lives. Alanna fell to the ground as they trampled over her in their wild attempts to escape. Unfortunately, within a few brief moments, every single one of them was dead by Roger's own means. The Lady Squire cried out as a body keeled over and fell on top of her. She struggled to move out from under it, this particular bandit had been heavy. Breaking away, she gasped for fresh air. However, the smell of rotting flesh was everywhere. The Conte Duke's bolts left the bandit's bodies to steam from the impact of the heat. Other than that (and their horror-stricked expressions) there was nothing to signify how they had died.

"I hate to kill," Roger sighed, as if it were a neccessary evil, "Rather messy, isn't it?"

Alanna balanced herself on her hands and knees. Now that Roger's back was turned, perhaps she could escape. If she could just make it out of the clearing, she would know her way back to the Palace. And, maybe, if she pleaded her story to King Roald and Queen Lianne before Duke Roger, Lord Cobalt, Lady Catherine and Helena did, they would give her some leeway.

"At least this way you won't have to make sure everyone has their mouths shut," the Lord of Eastern Scanra and Rigton syllabelled, "_And _it saves you a few nobles, doesn't it?"

Roger gave a charming laugh and the Lioness shivered. Her hands were freezing as they brushed through the snow, as were her knees. For the millionth time she wished she had grabbed her cloak. However, she urged herself to keep going and slowly too. Too much movement from her general direction would cause her to fall under the attention of the others. She wouldn't let herself be caught she was one third of the way to edge of the clearing.

She jumped about two feet in the air, even on her hands and knees, as Roger clapped his hands together. Immediately, the corpses of the bandits began melting into the earth. It was like the ground was a sponge and the bodies were merely water to be absorbed. Alanna tried her very best not to let it bother her much.

"As for you two," the Duke of Conte regarded Helena and Catherine, "What shall we do with you two?"

"Us? Must you do _anything _with us?" Helena implored, her bottom lip trembling. Anyone would be nervous if they'd just witnessed the death of twelve men far more physical than themselves.

"My Lady Catherine, you fear the Gift do you not?" Roger questioned, smiling to himself.

"Your Grace, please," Alanna's Aunt pleaded, her eyes going wide with a crazy terror.

In a quick succession, the Duke of Conte used his Gift to light Catherine's dress cloak on fire. Both she and her beaute of a daughter screamed, mercilessly. Helena flapped about her mother, trying to blow out the ever-growing flame. Alanna swallowed a snicker and rapidly made to the welcoming forest. Only two yards left to go! She was going to make it!

Roger put out the fire that was harrassing Lady Catherine and smirked, "I believe that is punishment enough for withholding this important information from me. Now, as for our captive-Curse the Gods! She's getting away!"

The Duke of Conte ran forward just as closed in on her pathway to escape. He raced over and kicked her roughly on the back of the head. Alanna crumpled onto the snowy ground, not expecting a move so low even from Roger. The sorcceror pulled her head up by the hair and whispered, harshly, "Try that again and I'll not even take you to the Palace by straight to the gallows where you belong."

He stood, bringing her with her. Alanna's eyes watering as she felt him tugging, violently, at her hair. With a swift shove, he pushed her into Cobalt.

"Make sure she doesn't try anything again," the Conte Duke ordered, "Now, let's return home. Oh, Mithros. _Visitors._"

By visitors, Roger meant Jonathan and a few cloaked companions who were really George and his men. Most of the men were swaying, melodramatically, on their steads. The alcohol from before hadn't quite sunk in. The Crown Prince rode ahead, his face etched with worry. Upon seeing Alanna, completely without disguise, bound down by Lord Cobalt's pale and rather muscular arms, his worry only grew. Something grand had unravelled in the past three hours, he just knew it.

Riding ahead of his troop, he stopped Darkness just in front of Roger and jumped down, elegantly. He noticed Lady Helena and her mother, Lady Catherine, huddled together, the latter holding a tattered cloak that looked burned. He held his black stallion's reins in his hands, hoping his quick tongue and even quicker charm could save him from his situation. It always did in all others.

"Cousin Jonathan, welcome," Roger greeted, warmly, "What brings you and your-here he stared, pointedly, at the hooded and darkening figures of George's men-friends here this time of day?"

"The sky is blackening and I was about to ask you the same," Jon returned fake smile for fake smile.

"Morbid affairs, greatly morbid affairs, Jon," the Duke of Conte shook his head, giving a remorseful smile, "There's a fake persona in our midst. This Lady here, sadly, is not our dearest Scanran cousin."

"Says who?" Alanna's Knightmaster demanded, glancing at Alanna in what he prayed was a platonic fashion.

"Why she said so herself. Admitted to Lady Helena. Why, the rest of us were witness," Roger breathed out, "So we're taking her back to the Palace for a full trial."

"On what charges?" Jonathan asked, his face getting slightly heated. He felt George's men circle around them and he gestured for them to stay back. It would be pointless for them to kidnap Roger, Catherine, Helena and Cobalt. Where would they keep them? And Jon was sure as day that he didn't want to kill any of them. A King never commited homicide lest it be in war.

"Impersonating and bewitching Royalty, of course," Roger clarified, his eyebrows heightened, "As far as I can remember, those are both very horrible crimes. The penalty to both is, hmm, let me think-oh yes, death."

"I see," Jon nodded, briskly, "Then let's all head back to the Palace together."

Promptly, George's horse whined, furiously, and its hooves pawed the ground. The heir to the Tortallan throne knew that its rider was feeling the same. He stared at George, hoping to convey a mesage to him through their eyes.

'_We cannot risk saving Alanna here but there are other methods. They've won this battle. But the war is still up for grabs,_' Jon wanted to shout to him.

The Rogue seemed to understand because he did not provoke Roger's attention any further. The group of them rode up to the Palace and most of them could not help but feel defeated. Roger, on the other hand, felt as if he were champion of the world. Alanna of Trebond was his one-way ticket to destroy Alan of Trebond.

* * *

Just as the clock truck ten, Alanna was escorted to her chambers in the dungeons of Tortall. A burly guard of the King's Own led her down to one of the filthiest, gloomiest, rooms at the request of Duke Roger of Conte. The Lioness barely flinched as she felt the Knight leading her hit her on the shoulder with the blunt of his sword. Everything was succeeding everything else rapidly.

Upon returning to the Palace, there had been an emergency King's Council with the most important advisors in the kingdom. A few honorary peoples had also been invited. Namely Lady Winfred, Lincoln, Thom a.k.a. Alan of Trebond and the newly reinstated royal Niece, Abigail, who looked miserable as she watched her protege being convicted of things in an injust manner. In fact, the whole time, the Scanran Contes all but blurted out outrages of how unfair it was that Alanna was being imprisoned. However, Jonathan managed to persuade them to keep their mouths shut.

It took a while for Alanna to tell her story and it took a while for her to make it up. However, she had been working on it the whole time she had been riding up to the Palace for her mini-trial. After she was done explaining how she bewitched everyone to believe she was the royal Niece because she wanted to be close to Prince Jonathan (Alanna had tried her very hardest not to look at her Knightmaster as she said this part), the court marshall could do nothing but convict her for her crimes. She was sentenced to death. A sentence that would be carried down at noon in three day's time.

In the mean time, the Lady Squire sat on a stagnantly cold bench in her prison cell, stretching the muscles in her neck. If she had thought she was cold outside in the Palace forest, she had been wrong. In fact, out there was just peachy Carthaki spring compared to the jailer's quarters. The stone bricks around her seemed to radiate a cold, icy, feeling. Or maybe that was just how she was feeling internally right now.

The Trebond crouched on her knees in her chamber, watching a streak of silver-blue moonlight stream in through her barred window. She prayed by it, wishing that her patron Goddess, the Great Mother would answer her prayers.

She was not ashamed to admit she was scared. It felt, as if for the first time, that she was entirely alone with nothing but her own thoughts. And those thoughts told her that she was going to die. Really, truely, going to die in three days' time.

"Great Mother," she whispered, her voice cracking if only a little bit, "Please, I beg you, save me from what can only come my way. Send Faithful to my side, or Thom if you could manage it. Do not let me die alone. But if my I must, give my the courageous to face it with honor. My death was not meant to be on Traitor's Hill but on the battlefield, in the heat of war. You told me last time we met that I had to face all three of my fears. I've conquered none of them yet and you cannot possibly let my life go unfinished. I beg of you, free me from my chains and shackles. Let me live and let me serve you for as long as I live."

She clamped her eyes shut, forcing herself to keep from crying. Her strength won over and she triumphed. Taking a sharp intake of breath, she rose to her feet and began to exercise. She wasn't dead yet and being fit had never done her any wrong.

About seven floors up, though Alanna did not know it, her prayers were being answered.

* * *

George sat casually on the table top Jonathan's private study, one leg dangling from the side. Three of his closest friends surrounded him. One of them was picking out random books from Jonathan's shelf and squinting at it even though he couldn't read. The other two were arm wrestling, chuckling like madmen all the while. Thom scrunched up his face as he watched their bad manners in disgust.

Lincoln warmed his hands by the fire, grinning at them over his shoulder. Lady Winfred fanned herself, eyes darting about the room as if she suspected spies to be all around them. Abby twirled her hair which had recently been converted back to its original black, watching her cousin Jonathan nervously. The Prince in question was pacing about the room, hands behind his back.

"By the Black God, how're we going to do this?" Jonathan demanded to no one at all, his stress level rising, "We could break her out, but where would we take her? Or perhaps Thom can magic away everyone's memories of the past few months but is that even possible? Or-"

"Y'need t'calm yerself," George stood, getting off of his bottom and swaggering about the room, keeping his head composed.

Jon breathed in, "You're right."

Truth be told, he was still rather frazzled from Alanna's brief trial earlier this evening. He couldn't stop thinking about her excuse for imposing as the royal Niece. To be closer to the Prince; was there any reality in that? He shook his head, trying to clear it. It was probably all fibs she had made up spurr of the moment.

"So, has any one any idea of what we ought to do for Alanna?" Abigail asked, drumming her nails along the table top she sat at.

"How 'bout we break 'er out an' take 'er to th'Shang?" Tanner, George's friend, suggested, "Them Shang always travel. No'un could find 'er. then."

"Shut up, Tanner, will'ye?" George scolded, however a smile was still intact on his face.

"Actually," Lincoln rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, "That _could _work. I have a few friends in the Shang that may take her. I know one that'll take her for sure if I ask him too. He gave me this-here the young Conte ran a finger along the long scar that ran along his left cheek-so I can give him Alanna for a bit. The situation will cool off if she's gone for a few years."

"No, no, no," the Crown Prince shook his head, "You're not sending Alanna away from Corus. She's not going off somewhere I'll never see her. That's not supposed to happen for at least another year."

"Your Highness," Thom started, hesistantly, "As much as I hate to see my sister be sent away from her home, I don't see much of another option. And, I believe, if Alanna had to choose an alternative to being a Knight, training along with a Shang would definitely be one of them."

"Shang _Dragon_," the royal Nephew interrupted, "Liam's a good man-"

"Mithros, you two are serious," Jon fumed, eyes wide. He couldn't imagine his squire up and leaving. He faltered a few steps and sat back in a chair beside Lady Winfred. His Aunt patted his hand, comfortingly.

"You can't hold onto her forever," she soothed, kindly, "All things come to an end."

"George, what do you say?" Jonathan asked, knowing very well that the King of Thieves cared for the young Trebond just as much as he did.

For a second, the Rogue looked rather stern, yet his brown eyes looked fit to burst out in tears. However, he brought himself together, "I see no other option."

"Fine," the heir to the throne of Tortall choked out, "If we're all in on this plan then so am I."

"Aye," the others chorused, softly, everyones vision blurring in the dim candlelight.

"Why're we all sad?" Helios, another one of George's companions, inquired, "We oughts t'be celebratin' th'fact that we c'n free Alanna!"

He pulled out a very expensive looking champagne bottle from under his cloak, including a few very expensive looking glasses, each emblazoned with the royal seal. George laughed, bitterly, upon seeing it, "Did y'steal it?"

"Borrowed," Helios grinned, then added in quieter tones, "C'n y'imagine what these would fetch at market?"

"Drinks anyone?" Tanner offered, grabbing the champagne and crystal glasses away from Helios. He began to pour everyone drinks, joking all the while. The slightly dampened mood, lightened and soon, everyone had their glasses raised adove their heads.

"Shall we toast to?" Jonathan questioned, his voice cakey and dry.

"To Alanna," Thom murmured, silently.

However, George heard and added, with more vigour, "To Alanna!"

"To Alanna!" the others repeated, clinking their glasses together and hoping, against hope, that they could break the precious Lioness out of her cage and let her free into the wild where she belonged.

Their calls almost seemed to echo out on the wind and down in the dungeons, Alanna's ears pitched up, slightly, as she heard the faint call.

"_To Alanna!_"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oo, ok, so now things are happening quickly. I can just perfectly imagine this one scene in my mind and I think you guys will love it. Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter and I hope you're noticing things all coming together. So what do YOU think will happen? I'd love to know. But what I'd love more was if you would possibly review, please?

**winky-wink**


	22. Out of the Cage?

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **A/J...it fits with the time setting.

**Musical Affection: **'La Maladie' by _Malajube._

**Author's Note: **Ok, well this is an escape chapter. I'm sorrry my updates are getting fewer and fewer between lol. School work, you know and if I _must _choose between homework and fanfiction, I got to do the homework unfortunately. Haha, ok, well this chapter is another ending chapter. I think the story will be ending in the next two or three chapters so come prepared to read the ending sooners.

Oh and how about I answer some questions and comments that I was asked _a lot _in your reviews so that I don't have to personally reply to every single review, how about that? Ok, first things first...

**People who want an A/J moment: **It'll come eventually! I swear it. But I'm not one to over dramatize romance so it won't be like Alanna and Jonathan jumping into bed or something every chapter like _some _other stories I know. ((coughs)) And for** Hikari-chan**, yes Winfred, Abby, and Lincoln would probably get a kick out of them getting together.

**Why doesn't Thom just pretend to be Alanna and go in her place: **Ok, well like half my reviewers told me that instead of sending the actual Alanna away to the Shang, I should just send Thom away as Alanna and she can go back to being Alan whilst Thom returns to the City of the Gods. Well, the reason I didn't do that is clear in this chapter as you shall see. It actually raises a few problems. Oh and a side-note, I had another reason for not doing that as well but I forgot it...smaarrt, hey? LOL...sorry.

**Trial: **This is more specifically to eridani mostly. Well the real reason I didn't do a trial is because I already did one for Abigail's rape and didn't really feel like doing another one. Sorry if you really wanted it! Anyways, the scene that I really want to all you see will probably come up next chapter.

**Is Alanna really going to join the Shang: **Well, you'll just find to read to find out, won't you?

Other than that, I just want to thank the super cool reviewers: **iluvsinging333, Hikari-chan, silfaeyn, charlie and lola, Dom's Angel, Queen Alanna of conte, lutefa, Confusedknight, epobbp, WitchyMage, FanFictionFanthom, Kokari, Fluffy, and eridani. **

You rock.

* * *

'_You think you're escaping and run into yourself. The longest way around is the shortest way home_'-James Joyce

* * *

_Step. Step. Knock. Knock. _

"Alan, are you awake?" Douglass asked, turning the door knob to his friend's chambers and sticking his head in a quarter of an inch.

"Of course he's not awake," Geoffery joked, "Alan? Up when he could be sleeping? _Please._"

"Come in the both of you," Thom called from where he sat at Alanna's table.

Squire Alan as played by Alanna of Trebond would most certainly not be up at this time of morning. However, Squire Alan as played by Thom of Trebond was already alert and reading a very fascinating and acclaimed book called _Sorccery on the Battlefield. _Recently, Thom had been devouring books faster than most squires could down their dinner-which was done at a shockingly fast speed. But for Thom, his reading had nothing to do with being ravenous all the time, it had to do with the arrest of his sister which had happed naught but a day and a half ago. Already, rumours were rampant about why this Alanna of Trebond had been imprisoned. Some said it was because she had kidnapped Abigail and pretended to be the royal Niece in her place. Others said she was forcing Jonathan to marry her. But, some, some that were whispered very, very, quietly behind cupped hands said that Alanna of Trebond was a socceress, strong enough to outsmart even Duke Roger. This particular went on to say that she had magicked the entire royal family into believing she was the royal Niece. Why had she done this, the foolish girl, people asked. She was in love with the Prince, others answered. And so it went until the whispers grew louder and louder. By now, this story, the other Alanna had originally told in the forest had reached the ears of even the youngest stable hand.

Now, when your sister is a convicted felon, people aren't exactly peachy keen with you either. Before he could say Trebond, Thom was shunned by everyone around. Or, perhaps, shunned was too strong a word. What really happened was his fellow squires and pages kept giving him suspicious looks as if expecting him to jump up and paralyse their minds with his Gift. This teachers were a bit more civil, but barely. Nobility dodged his path in the corridors, not wanting to be seen with the social outcast. In fact, only Raoul, Gary, Douglass and Geoffery had stayed by this side, although they didn't quite understand what had happened. In all truth, none of them had had the courage to ask Alan what had happened with his sister.

So, to avoid all the hostility that awaited him outside of his quarters, Thom chose to stay in and read a good book on more than one occasion. This exactly the thing that Douglass and Geoffery found him doing.

"Mithros he's up!" Geoffery exclaimed, looking awestruck, "And, is that-is that a _book?_"

'_No, I believe it's a ball. Throw it at him, Thom,_' Faithful suggested, evilly, glaring at Geoffery through his slits of eyes.

The Trebond smiled to himself, marking his place in _Sorccery on the Battlefield _and shutting it. He immediately turned around in his chair so he faced both other boys, who were currently settling onto Alanna's bed.

"How may I be of service?" Thom questioned as politely and scholarly as possible.

Douglass and Geoffery exchanged looks. Polite and scholarly were not exactly words one would use to describe Alan of Trebond. Could it be that his sister's scandalous arrest was the cause of him losing his mind?

"We need nothing from you, Alan," Douglass replied, shrewdly, "Another than answers to our questions that is."

"Yeah, like why you've been acting all strange," Geoffery demanded, his blonde eyebrows furrowed.

"Strange?" Thom blinked, straightening, "Whatever are you implying?"

"What we're talking about is, '_Whatever are you implying_' and _'How may I be of service?_'" Geoffery scowled, raising his voice by three pitches each time he quoted off something Thom had said before.

Before the mage had a chance to answer this question, Douglass interrupted, "What we really came here to ask you is, are you alright?"

The young Trebond was surprised. It was odd; though Douglass had asked just a simple question, it warmed Thom's heart. It was pleasant to know he cared. That they both cared. For someone who had spent much of his past years stuck up in the City of the Gods with next to zero friends, it was nice to finally have some. Even if he _had _borrowed them from his sister.

"I'm...fine, I suppose," Thom shrugged, letting Faithful jump into his lap.

"I mean with your sister and all...we just-we just wanted to know-," Douglass seemed to be struggling to say something.

"Dougy, hush will you? Let me do it. We just wanted to know why your sister is locked up in the dungeons," Geoffery inquired, his bluntness not hurting Thom the least bit. Actually, he, himself, was rather famous for his own bluntness.

Douglass looked terribly embarrassed that his friend of Meron had spoken so far out of line, but Thom merely smiled, "Haven't you heard? She's a socceress. She bewitched the royal family and myself into believing she was the royal Niece."

"But...why?" Goeffery scrunched up his face in confusion.

"She's in love with the Prince," Thom fibbed, wondering whether or not the Black God would have his soul for lying.

'_There's more truth in that than you think,_' Faithful snickered, making Thom glance at him, unnerved. He stored that statement away in his memory to ponder over on a rainy day.

Geoffery let out a low whistle and Douglass implored, "Wasn't it horrible to find out that whole time that your escort to all your balls was your sister?"

"Simply revolting," Thom responded but he couldn't help but grin to himself. It was rather horrible having to go all the balls with his sister, but he had known exactly what he was doing all along.

"Are you upset about her sentence?" Geoffery asked, eyebrows flyaways into his bangs.

Thom tried his hardest to look like someone who held the knowledge that his sister was going to be hung the next day at noon (about thirty-two hours away) and was trying to be strong and masculin by not crying or something that most would view as a 'sissy' act.

"I'm not very close to her," Thom barely kept from smiling as his voice came out broken and hoarse.

The ironic thing was how he knew that Alanna would never be hung. Already, preparations were being made to break the Lioness out of prison. And tonight; tonight they were going to break her out and send her along with the Shang Dragon, who was waiting for her in the outskirts of Corus as requested by Lincoln.

Douglass gulped and glanced at the clock fixed onto Alan's wall, "Great Mother! We missed breakfast and if we don't hurry we'll miss our Gift lessons too, Alan!"

"Not breakfast!" Geoffery cried out, jumping up, "Perhaps if I'm quick..."

He ran out of the room. The squire was not one who could last very long without a good three whole meals. Douglass sighed as he left, "Duke Gareth will have his hind for being late. And Duke Roger'll have ours if we don't hurry. Come along, Alan."

Thom gathered together his books and shoved them into his bag before following Douglass to Gift lessons. The two of them walked fast, arriving in the classroom just as clock struck seven. The whole class was already there, sitting attentively. As Thom and Douglass entered, everyone's eyes fell on the redhaired squire, watching his every move. Unfortunately, since they were late, the only seats that were left were at the very front of the class.

"Try to make haste next time, boys," Roger instructed, kindly, although Thom saw the ice in his eyes. It had been there ever since Alanna's arrest. The day that he had found out that he had been undermined by yet _another _Trebond. Although the Trebond saw no reason in him to be truely upset, he was still engaged to the royal Niece. Cobalt and him had arranged it all yesterday.

"Yes, Duke Roger," Douglass and Thom chorused like good squires.

"Now today we will be talking about similicrums. Can anyone tell me what a similicrum is?" the Conte Duke demanded, eyes searching the crowd.

No one raised their hand. Thom fought internally with his natural instinct which told him to answer the question and his reason side that told him not to attract attention to himself in Roger's class. Luckily for him, another boy raised his hand, ending his struggle.

"Yes, Sacherell?" the Duke of Conte nodded, putting his hands together behind his back. Though he ought to be looking at the student speaking, his gaze only found Alan of Trebond.

"A similicrum is like...another of someone you make with magic," the squire answered, his nose wrinkled in thought.

Roger laughed, politely, "Close, but not quite. A similicrum is better known as a clone of someone created by the way of the Gift. But do not mistake it with another you, for it is naught but an empty shell dressed up to look like you. It has no brain. It has no heart. It had barely stammer out ten words. Now, does anyone know what a similicrum might be used for?"

Another squire offered his ideas, "Maybe, in war, we could..."

Thom felt a searing pain in his head, as if something was slicing his brain from the inside out. As it came further and further out, he began to make it out. It was talk. Actual human talk.

'_Alan. Poor Alan. You look so confused._'

The young sorcerror in training almost gasped, but that would only make him seem crazy. Instead, he tried his best to cope with the pain as more words came to him. Who could possibly be talking to him in his own mind?

'_Can't you guess who it is? I'm right here. Standing near your desk._'

Thom froze, understanding. He glanced up and for a brief moment, caught Roger's eye. He instantly looked away, feeling a film of sweat rise on the back of his neck. The Conte Duke kept on presuming the action of listening to his students theories and correcting them as required. However, he also kept on sending messages to Thom.

'_I'll be watching you like a hawk, Trebond. I know where you sleep and what you do when you think no one is watching. One step out of line and you'll be joining your sister at the gallows._'

Thom rubbed the corner of his forehead, the pain almost unbearable. But, when Roger's warning was over, the intensity of it lessened. Soon it was just a dull gnawing at his head. He decided the pain he could live with, but could he handle the fact that he was being spied on? And what could this mean for his part in Alanna's escape? Could he even _have _a part in her escape anymore without jeopardizing the entire situation?

* * *

"So, you see, Gary, Raoul and I have concluded that there most certainly are bandits conferencing in Fort Serlain," Jonathan explained, ending his short ramble.

The King and his councillors clapped, pleased with the heir to the throne for actually conducting such an indept research. Roald smiled as well, not being able to help but be proud that his little boy was suddenly to grown up. And what a fine King Roald thought he would make.

The council room was near freezing in the late winter in Tortall so most everyone there were wearing fur-lined cloaks except for Jon, Raoul and Gary who had chosen to dawn just simple velvet ones. However, one man was as alert in the chill as he would've been had the weather been lovely and warm.

"What would you suggest we do with this information, Your Highness?" Lord Provost asked, briskly. Most would have thought 'brisk' an impolite way to speak to the Crown Prince, but Lord Provost was brisk with about everyone he met whatever their rank, blood or upbringing.

Raoul cleared this throat, "If I may answer?-Jonathan nodded-Well, my Lord, we would like it very much if you would send knights, warriors, or even simple foot soldiers to Fort Serlain to infiltrate this conference of bandits. It would be a gold mine if it were successful. More than half of the most wanted criminals in the kingdom would be there and if this is all executed right, they could all be caught."

"Impressive," Duke Gareth nodded, rubbing his chin, "But when would we send out our troops?"

"Well," Gary looked hesistant, "The best time would be this afternoon, really."

The council howled with laughter. Gary blushed and even Jon went a little pink. Raoul, on the other hand, seemed to find not a funny thing in the matter. His jaw was set and his eyes were on fire.

"This afternoon?" Lord Tyrant, one of the traditionalists, gasped, "_This afternoon? _Mithros, it'd take at least a week for us to commission for all the neccessary supplies and money needed to buy equipment! Listen, young men, you have the hearts of dragons, but unfortunately the sense of a hyena. You let your emotions guide you, not your head. You hunt for glory."

"And justice!" Raoul cried, his cheeks red with rage, not with humiliation.

"I beg your pardon!" another councillor breathed in shock, dumbfounded that this Knight would talk back.

Raoul calmed himself but taking a deep breath. Behind him he heard Jon whisper, "Raoul, don't get yourself into trouble. Keep your head on your shoulders."

"I apologize if I may seem to be speaking out of my station, Your Graces, Your Majesty, but I must tell you the truth as I know it. Tortall has a rising level of bandits. These bandits are pillaging our villages and sucking our cities dry. Now, when we finally have them all in one place, you are so quick to let them all go! It frustrates me!-the Goldenlake Knight slammed his fist on the table for effect-I do not want to see more criminals go free. And frankly, that is exactly what you are doing. I beg you, send a group of Knights to Fort Serlain to cease this conference," Raoul bargained, then added, "And do not send _Lord _Issac and his Own. They, frankly, do about as much about bandits as my great aunt."

For a second, there was dead quiet. No one could quite believe this young man had actually dared to say what they all would not. He had actually declared the King's Own as nothing but a show piece in this own way. King Roald did not look displeased, more so surprised. Lord Provost actually smiled, "I say we decree every Knight in Corus to accompany Lord Raoul on his mission."

"But what of the costs?" Tyrant questioned, his eyes wide and his lips pursed with disapproval.

"I will shoulder the costs," Sir Myles offered, graciously, sneaking a wink at his former students.

Raoul, however, was asking questions about something else, "My mission? My Lord Provost, what do you mean?"

"Why, with the King's permission, I am assigning you Commander of this troop of Knights to Fort Serlain," Lord Provost grinned, clasping his wrinkled hands together.

"My Lord, I cannot-," Raoul started but was caught across.

"I think that is a capital idea. I shall have my nephew, Sir Gareth accompany you," King Roald approved, "You will do good in this, Knight of Goldenlake. May the Gods bless your journey."

The three young Knights bowed and rose. Raoul and Gary stayed behind in the council room, making preparations for their leave this afternoon. Jonathan beamed as he headed out the stone door into the dimly lit hallway. He had come, done, and left, just as he'd wanted to. While saving Tortall from bandits was a noble cause, the real reason the Crown Prince had been so admant to sent all the Palace Knights away to Fort Serlain was that tonight was the night that Jon and his friends had planned to break Alanna out of prison. It felt good to know that while he couldn't physically be there, he had helped get every single Knight, save for about ten out of the Palace and out of the Lady Squire's hair. In a few moments, his happiness disolved. He was still not quite pleased with the turn of events. His squire was running away and he would never see her again, that's what would happen. In fact, he hadn't seen her since her mini-trial.

Turning the corner, he stopped and stiffened. The strangest idea had just struck him. Why were they sending Alanna away when she could just as easily stay here? Great Mother Goddess, the answer was right under his nose all along! Alanna and Thom would switch places, then Thom would break out of prison and finally make his return to the City of Gods and Alanna would go back to being Alan of Trebond. Why! It was his best idea, even if he _did _think it himself!

Almost running now, he went off to find Thom. He didn't have to look far, Alanna's twin brother was just dismissed for lunch and was heading up to his rooms to find the Prince. He looked awfully tired and kept grabbing his head, as he had a massive migraine.

"Thom!" Jon yelped, seeing him and getting excited. His plan was foolproof.

"Please, don't yell," the young mage moaned, "I have the worst-"

"I need to tell you something in our rooms," Jonathan cut across him, dragging him into his chambers.

Thom followed, groggily, and dumped all his belongings on the heir's tabletop. Jon opened his mouth to speak and reveal his master plan when Thom shushed him. He eyed the room, suddenly suspicious. He gathered his Gift and flooded the area with it, seemlingly searching for something. He did this for about three minutes when, out of no where, he exploded a ball of orange with his Gift.

"By the Black God!" Jonathan shouted, incredulous of the ball till now, "What in the world was that?"

"Spy ball," Thom mumbled, "It's a rather sneaky magical trick when hidden right. Now that that is destroyed we may talk."

"Right," the Lioness' Knightmaster eyed the corner where the ball had been hidden, "Well, I've got a plan to save Alanna."

"We already have a plan to save Alanna," Thom arched an eyebrow.

"No, in this one she doesn't have to leave," Jonathan clarified, "She just needs to break out of prison and switch places with you. Then you can be Thom of Trebond again and return to the City of the Gods and Alanna can be Squire Alan and no one is the wiser."

"It sounds like a good plan...," Thom began, collasping on Jon's bed.

"I knew you would agree," The Crown Prince's face split into a broad smile.

"...in theory. In action, it won't work at all," the mage interjected, frowning sternly.

"And why not?" Jonathan demanded, scowling with annoyance. He didn't like it very much when people disagreed with him.

"Well, for a while it _may _work. But when Alanna is knighted, she'll have to reveal herself eventually. And when she does, she'll be convicted. I don't know if you realize it, but her Ordeal is only about a year away. She'll still be a wanted felon by then. They'll imprison her before she can live out her dreams of adventure. Or, she could just not reveal herself and go on her whole life as a man," Thom wrinkled his nose in distaste, "I don't see that happening. Someone will find out sometime. And Alanna couldn't go on lying forever. And, lastly, I cannot trade places with her because I am being 'watched like a hawk' as I've been told."

"But-," Jonathan protested, then shut his mouth. What was there to say? He was royally troubled.

"You know what will be the best thing for us to do?" Thom inquired, gesturing for the Crown Prince to sit beside him.

"What?" Jon implored, eyes glazing over a bit as he plomped down on the bed beside Alanna's twin.

"As we were instructed. Sit in our rooms and act as if nothing is up. As if nothing is wrong," Thom replied.

* * *

"Tanner?"

"Right 'ere, Yer Majesty."

"No Nose Jack?"

"Over 'ere."

"Helios?"

"My Lord."

"Well, that's everyone," George noted and nodded, happily, scanning the scene of the Dancing Dove.

Even for the court of the Rogue, it was a sight unseen. Every single thief in Corus had been called forth, armed with daggers and speciality Yamani glaives lended to them from Lincoln, and were currently being instructed on their stations. Most of them did not even truely understand why they had been summoned until yesterday. Upon hearing George's lucrid idea about sneaking past the Palace gates just to save one unknown lass from the headman's axe. But, though near everyone thought they wouldn't survive this prison break mission, they all stayed for loyalty to their true King.

"Helios, you'll be into th'Palace wif Tanner, Jaws, n' Damion, alright?" George told a group of men who were dressed in white suits of the King's Own thanks to a little ingenuity on Jon, Abigail and Lincoln's behalf.

"Yes, Yer Majesty," Helios gave a mock bow, grinning.

"An' don' even think of stealin' nuthin'!" the Rogue symballed in, knowing his friend too well.

Helios grumbled but did not retort. George went on to 'hawk eye', "Hawk eye, yeh'll be leadin' a third of th'men around th'west side of th'Palace by Crow's Peak, Quinn to th'east side with your men, alright? An' Fred'll be takin' th'other third through to th'forest an' keeping watch. Th'rest of y'll have th'pleasure of infiltratin' th'prison with me."

"We're gunna die," one of the youngest thieves choked out, his face pale, "If not th'King's Own, then th'other knights 'bout will slaughter us come they slaughter cattle!"

"Didn'ya 'ear His Majesty?" Tanner demanded, one of the more patriotic of the lot, "He told us he's got some things arranged up at th'Palace."

Just then a knock came at the door of the Dove. All rumbling of chatter that had been growing steadily was instantly snuffed. 'Hawk eye' looked to George and the King of Thieves nodded, permitting him to let the visitor in. Lincoln, cloaked in pitch black, stepped over the threshold. He pulled back his hood, letting his shaggy black hair loose on his shoulders. Though he was far from the most scarred in the room, no one looked fiercer than him and his scar.

"This is quite the army you've gathered together, George," the royal Nephew nodded, appreciatively, "Ever thought of starting a rebellion and making yourself the _real_ King of Tortall?"

"An' have t'sign papers an' discipline all my life? I think not," George smiled with pearly whites gleaming, "So, what are y'doin' 'ere? Yer supposed t'be up at th'Palace actin' as if everythin' is normal."

"And miss the fight?" Lincoln raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Because there _will _be a fight. Even after Jonathan's gotten those wretched Knights out of the way, there are a few left and all the body of squires. I've seen them at duelling practice and they're a talented lot."

"We dun need ya. We have just th'right number o'men," the Rogue replied, shrugging, knowing it was a messy business to get royalty involved in an infiltration of the Palace.

"How about if one of your men were to fall ill?" the determined Conte asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Then we'd take yeh. But let me say that my men are not known t'miss out on a battle cause of a simple sickness," George responded, not at all expecting what was going to happen next, although later he decided he should've.

Lincoln nodded, "Alright then."

Unfolding his arms, he instantly punched the person nearest to him, Fred. The thief screamed, clutching his bleeding nose.

"He seems ill, does he not? I'm afraid I'll have to take his place," Lincoln sighed, his grin apparent.

"I shoulda seen that comin'," George shook his head, not helping but being impressed by this man even if he was noble, "Alright. This means _you _can lead Fred's boys into th'forest t'keep watch."

"Fabulous," the Scanran Conte remarked, his pleasure obvious.

"Right, men. Off we go. March swift an' quiet. We want t'get in an'out before those stinkin' nobles even realize what's happened to 'em!" George hollered and the men cheered in turn, then the thief King added in hushed tones, "Sorry 'bout th'insult. But upsettin' nobles is a real motivation for 'em."

"Hmm," Lincoln noted, having a feeling that might possibly come in useful some day.

The men gathered in rows and streamed out of the Dancing Dove, looking like haunting spirals of cloaks from a bird's eye point of view. They took few horses, knowing that steads often made noise and were needed to be stored somewhere when not used. Anyway, running as fast as a stallion was a quality most thieves had. George and Lincoln, however, rode atop two twin auburn mares, staring ahead at the hill not too far in the distance. The lights in the window of the Palace shone, brightly, against the ebony night.

They encountered nobody on the path to the Palace save for a single cloaked rider who practically blended in with the night. He rode rapidly, rushing into the city from the outskirts. George and Lincoln watched him go, weary.

"Where do you suppose he's off to?" Lincoln inquired, shooting a sidelong glance at the Rogue.

"Who knows? How 'bout we save that'un fer another day when we ain't tryin' t'rescue 'Lanna," George offered, feeling a change in the air.

"Did y'see 'ow he took down Fred?" one of George's men whispered to the other.

"Lucky shot. What c'n a pretty noble boy do anyways?" the other smirked, sounding haughty.

"I can very well punch your face in too, that's what I can do," Lincoln spun around on his horse and warned, the moonlight falling onto his face and illuminating his scar. Instantly, the thieves were put to silence.

"Twasn't very nice of y'to knock out my best man an'threaten another," George commented after a while, they were almost at the Palace by now.

"What can I say? I like to punch," Lincoln's grin was devilish.

* * *

"Roger?"

The Duke of Conte looked up from his paper work. Delia of Eldorne was lying, comfortably, on his fur-lined bed, propping herself on her right elbow. She was possibly the most beautiful woman in all of Tortall and yet all he saw when he looked at her was a tool. A tool that was extremely easy to manipulate.

"What is it?" he snapped, his whole being tired from making arrangements for Alanna of Trebond's beheading tomorrow.

"Now that _Alanna _is out of the way, I thought that instead of you marrying Abigail of Conte, you could just marry me," Delia started, her voice hopeful, wishful.

"I'm sticking to my original plan, I _told _you that," the Conte Duke replied, irritably, "And if you don't like it, as you well know, you are free to leave."

"NO! No...that's not what I meant at all," Delia breathed, panicking. He smiled. She was just like a trained dog. "I meant-oh poppycock what I meant. All that matters is that I have you now."

With that she got up from bed and joined him at his desk. He let her kiss him for a few moments. After all, he couldn't abuse her to the point where she might leave him with no thought of returning. He had need of her yet. Breaking away, he said, "I think you ought to return to your chambers now."

"What?" she blinked, "I was actually hoping that I could stay here tonight."

"I don't think that's appropriate, do you?" Roger stretched his neck, trying to avoid her gaze.

She looked like she wanted to spit back but didn't. Shaking her head, slightly, she left the room. The door was closed a little bit louder than usual, but Roger was not perturbed. He and Delia had miniature spats all the time but that didn't mean that they stopped always ending up together again. In a strange sort of way he needed each other. He needed to be another step on his stairway to the throne and she needed him to love her.

Rising from the chair, Roger went to the window to practice exercising his Gift. First, he would shoot little his magic out in orange stones, shattering his window. Then, using his Gift once again, he would repair it to good as new.

Down below, in the courtyard outside of the Duke of Conte's windows, the group of thieves being led by Quinn Ferrence were stretching their bodies against the wall, trying to prevent themselves from being seen. The east side of the Palace was probably one of the most dangerous because it was here that most of the noble's windows faced. Including Roger, although Quinn and the boys didn't know that.

"Mithros, it's cold!" Toby, the newest member of the court of the Rogue, whimpered.

"Shut yer mouth!" Quinn whispered, harshly.

Toby flushed, reprimanded. Since he was the newest member, he was also the least experienced. He fumbled rather often, unfortunately, and many grumbled about him. In fact, he was getting nicknamed Toby the Tumbler for being so damned clumsy.

"Now, on th'count o'three, we run north to th'eastern stables where we'll be hidden an' on watch. Ready? One, two, three!" Quinn cried as above them Roger's window stimutaneously broke. In their surprise at the sound, Quinn's men ran even faster, proud of themselves for not scattering like chickens. Or at least _most _of them could be proud. Unfortunately, Toby the Tumbler had been terrified out of his skin and ran any which way.

"I said north not east you fool!" Quinn slapped a hand to his forehead in frustration.

Embarrassed, Toby quickly followed these new instructions. However, that didn't stop Roger from seeing him. The Conte Duke didn't see any of the rest of them but one man was enough to make him suspicious. The young man had not been dressed as a royal Knight, a member of the Own or even a recruited soldier of simpleton blood. Who could he have been?

Roger decided to go pay a late night visit to Alanna of Trebond.

* * *

Alanna of Trebond lied down on the cold stone floor that had been her bed for the past two nights and counting. She couldn't stop her teeth from clattering. It was a frigid night and the sun had not shone all day. Cupping her hands in to her mouth, she breathed into them as a last attempt to warm them. She finally stopped. What was the point? The Lioness was going to die and she had accepted it.

At first, she was sure that possibly Jonathan or George or even Thom would come to rescue her, but nothing had been done thus far and nothing probably would be. She had about thirteen hours of life to go. The only option to live was the crazy idea to fight her guardsmen as soon as they opened the gate to take her to Traitor's Hill to be beheaded.

The worst part of it all was not even dying. It was the fact that she hadn't even been given the chance to truely _live. _

Tomorrow she'd die with never having been a Knight, never having had adventures, never having loved or at least never having told the one whom she loved just how much she cared. Tomorrow she'd die an empty shell.

'_I'm not going to cry_,' she told herself, '_I'm not going to cry in the face of death. I'm going to die smiling and brave as a Knight would_.'

Upon hearing a creak, Alanna sat bolt upright in her 'bed.' She had no idea as to who could be coming to see her. No one was allowed to unless...Great Mother Goddess! It was the executioner come to take her away! They wanted to kill her before they should so that they wouldn't have to deal with a whole big scene. Standing, she flexed her arms and legs. One last wrestle wouldn't hurt. However her stretching quickly turned to running as she rushed to the bars of her cell, staring at George and about five of his men in awe.

"George!" the Lady Squire gasped, her lips blue from the icy temperature.

"Alanna, y'look fit t'freeze fire!" George gave a low whistle.

Alanna managed to smile, "What are you doing here?"

"We've come t'rescue you. What else?" George grinned, dangling keys in front of her nose which stuck through between bars.

"George...I should've known not to doubt you. I should've known you would come," the Lioness felt like she was going to break into sobs she was so happy.

"Ain't just me. Jon, Thom, Lincoln, Abigail an' Winfred 'elped too," George clarified, going through keys finding the right one. The Crown Prince had said it would be the smallest, bronze one, "Twas really a team effort..."

"Yes, yes, get me out of here!" Alanna spluttered out, getting impatient with his calm demeanour. She felt as if Roger could burst in on them at any moment.

"Alright, hold yer horses," George replied, sticking the smallest, bronze key into the keyhole and turning it.

Immediately the door to Alanna's prison cell came open. The Lioness stepped out of cage, free once again. With a single cry of "Oh George!" she threw herself into his arms, hugging him for all that mattered.

"We were worried 'bout you," George murmured into her hair, blinking away the tears in his eyes. His men stood around, watching awkwardly, "Especially Jon. He really doesn't want t'send y'away to th'Shang."

"The Shang?" the Trebond blanched, reeling back a bit, "Send me away?"

"It's th'only way," George muttered, now unable to hold back some of his tears. One or two seeped down his cheek, "Yeh'll be leavin' tonight."

"But what about Jon? And my brother? I want to say good-bye at the very least!" Alanna's cheeks went red, "How could I just leave? How could-?"

"If you don't mind me asking; how could you think you would even be escaping at all?" Roger questioned, standing at the bottom of the stairwell that led down into the dungeons with two knights flanking his left and right.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Cliffie! I think the story will be over all two more chapters after this one. So up to twenty-four. That's a lot for me. It'll be my second longest story by chapters but my first longest my word-count by far. This one is over 130 000 words and the only thing that even comes close is only 93 223 words. So wow, good on me! This story also has my longest chapters. Anyways, I hope you review because it means so much to me.

**winky-wink**

Review&enjoy**the**love.


	23. The Two L's

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Jon

**Musical Affection: **'Wild Rose' by _Bombay Rockers._

**Author's Note: **Ok, hopefully this is part one of the end. Next chapter _should _be the last chapter just so you all know. But the way things are going, it may be two. So, I know you're all thinking like what the hell, how is she going to tie up all the loose ends? And many A/J fans are worried that I'll just cut out the fluff, but I don't. It'll all come together and I hope you love it. Oh, and a little note on the last chapter, I realized that it was rather inspired by 'The Eyes of the Dragon' by Stephen King in subtle little ways. I just finished reading that book for a novel study at school so I suppose that's why.

Now, to important topics that came up in reviews that I'm sorta interested in commenting about...

**Potter Moment: **You're all right who said this (or maybe this was just FanFictionFanthom). It really was a Potter moment but wasn't really intended to be. What can I say? JKR has all the good story ideas.

**Length: **Near the end of stories, my chapters tend to get longer because I have more and more to say. I really like leaving everyone hanging till the last few chapters because it leaves you thinking, omg how can this all wrap up in like two or something chapters? But it's fun for me, rather unnerving for you guys.

**Shang versus Knighthood: **Which will Alanna end up with? Well, the thing about this story is, I didn't mean to take the entire plot of Song of a Lioness and change it. I just wanted to fill in the gaps of her squire years. Truthfully, when you look at the book, other than the Tusaine War and falling in love with a Prince, most of her day-to-day squire life is a blank page. We don't really know every little detail about what happened. So I wanted to fill in a bit for all of you. I want to make this story a sort of extension to the middle of In the Hang of the Goddess. So, I hope that explains whether she'll end up in Shang or become a Knight. I give I'm practically _handing _you the answer.

**Sequel: **Um...haha...I didn't plan on a sequel because I don't really have any sequel-esque ideas for this. Sorry, lol. Unless you all want to suggest somethig? LOL...kk yeah, as of right now, I can say there will probably be no sequel. Sequels scare me because they're usually not as good as the original. Yeah, but I will write other fics in the Tortall Realm for sure. But to keep the hopes up, I'll say I'm more so thinking on it.

Lastly, a thanks to the **super**cala_frag_**alis**tic reviewers: **iluvsinging33 **_Queen Alanna of conte _eridani **lutefa **_Confusedknight _epobbp **FanFictionFanthom **_Lady Knight _Mishi Starr **Wanderer of Dreams **&&_kristina._

_This chapter is dedicated to Angel of a Dream who wanted to feel **special**._

* * *

'_I love you and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for lies_'-Pietro Aretino

* * *

For a brief second, time stopped and the earth exploded.

Or rather, Alanna's mind went blank for ideas. Roger stood there, smirking, arms crossed over his chest. The two Knights of the Own stood on either side of him, flexing their wrists and sheething their swords from their scabbards. The Lioness had never felt more unarmed then she did now.

On a bold spur of extreme courage or extreme insanity, she leapt forth and kicked the Duke of Conte in the tenderest of places. He was taken by surprise and the blow came on with full force. He crumpled to the floor, gasping. The Knights blanched, completely bewildered.

"After them you fools!" Roger shouted from his place on the cold stone floor of the dungeons.

The Knights let out a war cry and charged forth, taking on George's men. Though the Knights had been through the Ordeal and vigorous training, their lack of practice as part of the King's Own showed and the boys from the Dove were pacing them fast. Alanna's face brightened, perhaps they could get out of this situation alive.

That thought was instantly disrupted by the Conte Duke crawling over to a table, his privates shielded and pulled a rope that run an emergency bell. It was in case any prisoners tried to escape and it rung into the courtyard. George paled. Once the others heard that distress single, they would come running. He pulled away from the Lady Squire and jumped on the Duke, stopping him from ringing the bell. But it was too late, already they could hear rumbling as all the Knights in the Palace and even some squires ran to the dungeons, their swords glinting in the moonlight.

"George!" Alanna cried to him, as he fought to hold Roger down, "George, they're coming!"

"Lanna, th'Dragon's on'y 'ere till midnight 'fore 'ee moves on to Port Caynn," he choked out, between breaths, as he flipped the Duke of Conte over to his stomach and began pulling his arms together, "Get out o' 'ere!"

"What about all of you?" the Trebond waved her hand around their companions, wildly.

"We'll be fine, y'go on!" George shouted, managing to hold Roger's arms together at the wrist whilst searching for something in his cloak. It was a daggar and rope. He threw the weapon at Alanna, "Take this an' use it against anyone in yer path. There are horses waitin' fer you just outside th'royal stables."

"If you think I'm leaving without you, you've gone mad!" Alanna hollered back, holding the knife, stubbornly. The rumbling of footsteps was drawing ever near.

"Alanna, fer once in yer life do something without fighting back!" George snapped back, his eyes showing that he was dead serious.

The Lioness hesistated for a second longer, struggling between what was smart and what she felt was right. In the end, the pleading look the Rogue gave her mustarded her into running up the stairs. Instantly the Conte Duke started shrieking, "She's escaping! The criminal is escaping!" Then there was a loud crack and Alanna had a feeling that George had done something drastic to shut the Duke up.

Coming out into the upper floor, she became nervous. She was still wearing the white silk gown she had been wearing the day she'd been caught in the forest. The Lioness had never fought in a dress before and wasn't sure if she could do it to her full potential. Clutching the hilt of George's dagger and hitching up her dress, she slinked across the darkened corridor. Did she dare use the main stairway to escape? What if, just as she was going up, a company of Knights came down? Facing all those Knights in a gown was not something she looked forward too.

She stared down the hall, checking out her options. Statue of Rex of Rotar, the greatest judge Tortall had ever known, painting of Knights defeating a troop of bandits, a window, black-wait! A window! Now, _that _was what she'd been looking for. Alanna rushed over to it, the voices of Knights reaching her ears faintly egging her on. She unlatched it and glanced down, it wasn't a very big drop. She was in the hallway just above the underground dungeons after all.

She swung one leg over the window ledge so that she was straddling it. Then, she hitched her other leg over, and leaped. She landed, catlike, on both feet with her bag arched. The Lady Squire entered and shut the window, though she could not relatch it from the outside. It would take longer for them to figure how she had escaped this way.

The Trebond scurried across the Palace Grounds, keeping to darkened corners. Fortunately, she ran into no one. And if anyone _had _run into her, they surely would've thought she was a ghost in her white gown. Finally, just when she reached the courtyard, she paused before racing to the stables. If she ran, she would never have been so exposed in her life. Mithros, anyone could just be randomly looking out the window and catch her escape.

She strayed for a second more, before gulping, gathering her strength and running to the courtyards as fast as she could. She was almost there, this run wouldn't even take a minute...

"Halt! Who goes there?" someone demanded from behind her.

Alanna regretted turning around a thousand times over. If she had just kept on running, the person wouldn't have been able to outrun her. But by facing them, she made herself vulnerable. Standing before her were four Knights all dressed in the glory that was the King's Own. The Trebond inwardly groaned. She had been so close to escaping too!

The Knights came towards her, she couldn't outrun them now. Even if she did reach the horses, they were four men and could take down a silly girl in a gown and stead anyday. However, their walk was odd, with a hint of a swagger. Were they drunk?

"Why-? Hold it, are y'Lanna?" the head of the men asked, his voice suddenly cheery. Alanna recognized it.

"Helios Kirk?" she breathed, not daring to believe it.

"Yea, how'd you know?" Helios demanded, raising an eyebrow. When all the Knights got close, Alanna realized that they were all men from the Dancing Dove. She almost laughed in relief. So this escape had been planned out better than she thought.

"Uh, George told me. And my brother, Alan, mentioned you too," the Lioness explained, admiring the way each commoner looked like a born and bred noble in their suits of armor.

"Where is'e anyway?" another 'knight' inquired. It was Tanner. "An' what was that bell?"

"Duke Roger caught us escaping," Alanna explained, hurriedly, wanting to get them all out of here before they were caught, "George and them are fighting Knights as we speak."

"To hell with it!" a man known as Jaws swore, "I _knew _this would be th'death of us."

"What do y'sugget we do, Helios?" a calmer, more sly, thief called Damion implored, shining his shield. He had a very faint city accent for someone who was a thief.

"Nuthin' much we can do, can we? You know th'rules o'the Rogue. Survivors flee. Before we go, Tanner y'go tell Lincoln, Hawk Eye an'Quinn t'leave," Helios ordered, suddenly sounding like quite the Commander. Alanna was shocked. She had never heard him so serious before.

"An' th'rest of us will ride wif Alanna t'the Dove," he finished, grabbing the Lady Squire's wrist, planning to help the 'noble lady' to the horses.

She twisted away from him. She was about to say, "I know my own way to the Dove, thanks," but she bit her tongue, knowing that Alanna of Trebond, the half-mad lady she was supposed to be playing most certainly did not know where the Dancing Dove was. _That _was Alan of Trebond.

Silently, fuming, Alanna followed the three thieves to the horses hidden near the stables, wrapping her own arms around herself to keep warm. It was a very good method or perhaps the Lioness was just not very talented in the art of holding herself. For a brief moment she wondered how it would feel if it was her knightmaster holding her. She'd feel far warmer than she did now, that was a certainty. As soon as she thought of Jonathan, her heart broke. She was leaving him, leaving all she had known at the Palace without so much as a proper goodbye.

The horses came into view. There were only three and there were four people.

"Only four 'orses," Helios stated, glancing at Alanna, "Listen, m'lady, I'm afraid ye'll 'ave t'ride with another one of us."

"I wouldn't mind 'er ridin' with me," Jaws wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively.

Alanna wrinkled her nose, "I ride alone, boys."

"This's silly. Th'girl can't possibly expect two of _us _t'ride together?" Damion frowned.

Before any of them could say another word, the Lady Squire pulled out George's dagger and brandished it dangerously. She would never use it against any of them, but she knew it would get the job done. "Anyone care to argue further?"

"Damion, Jaws, ye'll be ridin' together," Helios declared, gulping. No wonder this woman had been imprisoned in the Palace dungeons, she was crazy!

"Need 'elp gettin' on that 'orse?" Jaws questioned, his fingers itching to touch her.

The Trebond didn't even blush at his unbashed desire, "I can get on a horse just fine."

Damion, who was on Jaws' right, snickered. The other thief turned on him, "Watchoo laughin' at?"

Alanna slid onto the back of a chestnut mare she had seen outside the Dancing Dove on numerous times. Once everyone was steady on their horses, the four of them set off. The Lioness felt a sickening feeling wrenching in her stomach as she rode away from the Palace. There was a battle raging there and she was not one to just ride away from those. What would happen to George and those who remained there and fought? She heard Helios mention that Lincoln and most all the rest of the Contes were involved in helping her to escape, what would happen to them all should this plan be revealed? Why, the royal family itself would be charged with treachery and be hung on Traitor's Hill.

"Wait," Alanna stopped her horse when they were half to the lower city, "I have to go back."

"Are y'mad?" Jaws barked, his eyes wide.

"No, no. I have to go back. I can't let them fight alone," the Trebond shook her head, urging her stead to turn around.

"Th'Shang Dragon is on'y 'ere till midnight," Damion warned, knowing that George would slaughter them all if they allowed her to return to the Palace, "Y'on'y 'ave a bit over ten minutes t'reach 'im."

"I don't care," Alanna retorted, her face set, she whirled around on her horse, ready to gallop back to the Palace when Helios leaped from his horse onto her's. She screamed, taken by surprise. They wrestled for control of the reigns as the chestnut mare whined and clapped its hooves like mad. In the end, after Jaws and Damion offered Helios their help, they managed to bind Alanna still with their arms.

"You can't do this to me! I have to get back to the Palace! I have to-," her cries were muffled out when Helios stuck a royal napkin in her mouth.

Damion regarded this in surprise, "Y'stole it?"

"C'n y'imagine th'price it'll fetch at market? Th'King's napkins!" Helios grinned in spite of himself.

Just then the bells rung from the Churches and the Palace. It was midnight. The three thieves looked at each other, horrorstruck. Liam Ironarm, the Shang Dragon, had given precise instructions stating that he would only wait for his 'girl warrior' until the twelfth hour, then he was gone. Jaws snuck to the ground. They had failed their King by not managing to deliver this Alanna of Trebond to the Shang.

"What d'we do?" Jaws demanded, "Th'Dragon'll 'ave-"

Helios hoisted a gagged Alanna onto the chestnut mare and got on, himself, "We ride t'the Dove."

* * *

Alanna blinked. Once. Twice. Three whole times before the world came into view. The first thing she saw were two very beautiful pools of sapphire blue. She smiled and reached out a hand to touch the ivory cheek that went along with the striking eyes.

"Jon," she murmured, her voice soft.

"She wishes," someone laughed and suddenly everything in the room came into sharp focus. The eyes she'd seen hadn't been the Crown Prince's at all. They were Abigail's. She had just stroked the royal Niece's cheek.

Trying both to hide her embarrassment and get her bearings, she sat up straighter and asked, "Where are we?"

"Good morning to you too. Mithros, did you learn nothing in those lady lessons I gave you?" Lady Winfred chided from her seat at a table by an open window.

Fortunately for her, Abigail and Lady Winfred were the only ones in her room at this time and were therefore the only ones to see her rather humiliating act upon her reawakening. Glacing around the room, the Lady Squire realized she was still at the Dancing Dove in one of the rooms that were often rented out to travellers. For a moment, she thought no more and only let the feeling of just getting up from an unusually peaceful sleep seep over her. Then she remembered...

"Last night. At the Palace. A battle...Great Mother, where's George?" Alanna's tongue lolled in her mouth, making it hard to talk, "And Lincoln? Tanner, the other boys from the Dove?"

"The boys from the Dove, Tanner, Lincoln, they're all fine," Abby assured, exchanging a quick glance with her mother.

However, even in her morning state, the Lioness didn't miss a beat, "And George?"

Silence.

"Where is George?" Alanna pressed on and finally, Winfred spoke, "You're not going to like this, prettyness, but he's at the Palace. Or rather, the dungeons. He was the one man they caught and, for helping you escape, he's to be beheaded today at noon in your place."

"_What?_" the Trebond breathed, her chest rising and falling visibly at the shock.

"I'm sorry. I know you cared for him," Abigail said, quietly, after a while.

"Cared? I still care for him!" the Lady Squire huffed, pushing her blanket off her and standing, "It's not noon yet is it? He's not going to die for something I did."

"Alanna! What can you do in two hours?" Lady Winfred questioned, rising to her feet too, "Even the thieves here have given up hope. Sirs Raoul and Gary have returned from Fort Serlain will all the Knights. An ambush is impossible."

"I don't want an ambush," Alanna replied, pulling on her riding boots as she spoke, "I don't want more fighting. That's the last thing everyone needs. I'm just going to go there and take the blame that should rightfully be mine. Anyways, I need to see the Prince and tell him the truth."

"The truth?" Abigail squealed, going to her mother's side and looking at her to talk some sense into the hot-headed girl before them.

"Yes, I can't let George die in my place. I'd never forgive myself," the Lioness clarified, her eyes set. It seemed as if, for the first time in months, she knew exactly what she must do.

The Lioness found a ragged white sweater and threw it on over the white gown she wore even now. She paused for a second and glanced at Lady Winfred. She wanted desperately to have the elder woman's approval. For her to say that what Alanna was planning on doing wasn't preposterous. For a brief moment, the royal Aunt held completely still, then she sighed and nodded, "Very well, we'll give you a ride there in our carriage."

Alanna grinned, giving Lady Winfred a very uncharacteristic hug. Winfred was awestruck but managed to grin and pat her head all the same. Both women were too headstrong to ever admit it, but they had come to think of each other rather like mother and daughter.

"This is mad," Abigail muttered, as they headed down the stairs of the Dove, "First we come to some stinky old pub, now we return to the Palace practically handing over Alanna's head on a platter...Mithros, what's next?"

The Lady Squire smiled to herself, realizing for the first time that it was quite something to see the Scanran Contes standing here in the Dancing Dove with the what most nobles would consider the 'scum of Corus.' Even in their simple day gowns, they looked stuffy and overdressed. Normally, the thieves and drunkards at the Dove would be all over themselves trying to get at Winfred's purse and sneak a kiss from Abigail, however today their fervor was ruined by the thought of such an untimely death of their King. The only man in the whole of the Dove who _was _chatting was a grisly middle-aged commoner with graying hairs and rheumy eyes. His discussion seemed intent and Alanna's ears prickled as she overheard a fragment.

"Duke Honrenchio Thyler of Galla..." **(This name is actually mentioned in Chapter 4: Meals, Meals, Meals and Chapter 8: Oblivious)**

That one name actually had the Trebond spinning on her heels. Horenchio Thyler of Galla was the name of Lady Catherine's second husband. The one that everyone suspected had been murdered.

"Alanna, aren't we leaving?" Winfred wrinkled her nose, already halfway out the door.

"Wait," she called back, bending over Tanner's shoulder to ask, "Who is that man?"

"Some bloke we saw ridin' in when we went off fer y'at th'Palace," Tanner replied, glumly, his spirit broken at the thought of George's death.

Alanna straightened, walking right over to him. She could just be wasting time like her mind, Winfred and Abigail thought or she could be doing something of significance like her instinct suggested. She tapped him on the shoulder and he whirled around, rather startled.

"M'...M'lady?" he offered, looking confused to see someone who was obviously noble and in noble company to be here at the Dancing Dove.

"Sir," the Lioness nodded in turn, showing a slight smirk, "You were acquainted with Duke Thyler?"

Here, the man got down on his knee, "He was my master for a short time, yes, m'Lady."

"Then you were acquainted with Lady Catherine and her daughter, Lady Helena?" Alanna demanded, hoping she was right.

The man suddenly looked frightful, "I knew'em both. I was their servingman until half a year ago."

The Lady Squire got down on her knee too, her eyes a dull violet from the seriousness of the situation, "You must know how they both died then. Lord Erik of Sommerset and Duke Thyler of Galla."

The servingman glared away from her, feeling as if he had just made eye contact with a goddess of some kind. Those purple eyes were unnatural, he decided in his mind. But he fought for his voice and whispered, hoarsely, "Yes I know. I'm here to see Lady Winfred of Conte because of it."

"This Lady Winfred?" Alanna asked, standing and gesturing towards the royalty behind her.

The servingman rose also, astounded. He bowed to both her and Abigail immediately. "My Ladies. I have much to tell you."

"You must be the servingman Jakob?" the royal Aunt smiled, her expression kind.

"Yes," he bowed again, "Is there a private place we may speak?"

Winfred looked to Alanna who agree, reluctuantly, "We can return to my rooms upstairs for a little while."

As they headed up, Abigail clung to the Lady Squire's forearm, saying, "You know what this means don't you?"

The Lioness nodded, her cheeks getting rosy just from the thought of it, "It means we have a plan."

* * *

The sun was high in the air, beating down on the wintery Tortall. The large courtyard in the Corus Royal Palace was full to the brim with nobles and commoners alike. Knights guarded every entrance and exit like hawks, ready to pounce on their prey. Everyone had come out to watch the first beheading in Tortall in sixty years. King Roald was not known for shedding blood but unfortunately, his nephew had grander influence on him than most had thought.

The King and Queen stood at a high parapet where they were farther away from the people and to their preference, out of view of the face of the convicted. In fact, they couldn't even really see his beheading unless they tried. Which they'd rather not.

Roger, on the other hand, was front and center, watching George come out onto the stage, for that was really what it was, a stage. And the people were oddly fascinated by it. They liked to see the upcomance of what they thought was evil. Even children were out, ready to witness the beheading.

Jonathan stood to a corner, Thom at his side. It was not an outright unusual side. As usual, the Prince and his brooding squire were off alone, away from the rest of the Knights and squires. Their faces were scrunched up, darkly.

'_Where is she?_' Jon kept thinking, '_Where's Alanna?_'

He knew her coming here would be pretty much equal to suicide, but he couldn't help but think he knew her. He thought she'd be here, jumping all over herself to save George and yet here it was the moment when they'd chop the Rogue's head off, the moment when she should be rescuing him and she was no where in sight. He breathed out, deeply, if he could, he would've saved the King of Thieves but he'd come up with nothing. The dungeons were under constant supervision and he'd been more dependant on Alanna's loyalty than he should've been.

The court marshall came forth, his long robe furnished with fur. He began reading allowed everything George was sentenced for, which included everything Alanna had been convicted of. After he had finished, they lowered George's head onto the chopping board. The headsman glided forward with his axe. The heir to the throne of Tortall's eyes darted everywhere, was she really not here?

The axe went up, surprisingly George was not even sweating. He looked rather amused. Jon held his breath and unknowingly to him, so did the rest of the crowd in the square. The seconds seemed to draw on. One. Two. Thr-

"TORTALL!" someone cried and instantly, everyone's gaze was diverted from the scene before them to one directly behind them.

On the third and highest level of parapets overlooking the courtyard, a lone figure stood waving their hands an screaming at the top of their lungs. The headsman lowered his axe, rather perturbed. Jonathan smiled, faintly, noticing that the crazed intruder had bright red hair and a short stature.

"You're killing the wrong man," Alanna cried, knowing that this was probably the worst last-minute, desperate thing she could've done, "He's innocent and I'm innocent! I've a witness to prove it!"

"Is she insane?" Thom asked no one in particular, his gaze disbelieving.

Faithful rubbed along his ankles, '_Wasn't she always insane?"_

"Men, to the third landing," Lord Issac commanded a company of the Own, "While she's up there screeching, we may be able to ambush her."

The Crown Prince was beside him at once, "You can't possibly be thinking of taking her to prison? Shouldn't we hear her out?

"Jonathan, do not be so easily swayed by her fibs," Duke Roger advised, creeping up to the Prince with a chilling quiet, "She's obviously just trying to free her accomplice."

The men of the King's Own were already off to the third landing, ready to bring down the fugitive. Jon frowned, running to his parents, Thom at his heels. He glanced up at the chopping block. George's head had been risen off, as Lord Provost waited for further comfirmation to condemn this man's life.

* * *

The Lioness noticed Lady Winfred and Abigail slipping into the crowd, making their way to King Roald and Queen Lianne with Jakob in tow. This plan was rather ludicrous. It had sounded so much better when she was sitting at the Dove, sipping a lemonade. Now that she was here, crying out like a mad man, she doubted whether _her _neck would survive the chopping block. If this plan backfired, she may well be dead by sunset.

To her great relief, Lord Provost allowed George to lift his head for the moment and even the headsman put down his axe. Lord Provost eyed George, shrewdly, before going off to speak to Lord Issac. The Rogue glanced over his shoulder at the headsman, sizing him up. If he planned this just right, he could be escaping the Palace in just under ten minutes. The crowd was beginning to talk and shuffle, wondering what could possibly be the hold up. One scrawny girl with a boy's hair couldn't save a man's life.

Behind her, the Lady Squire heard footsteps. Many of them. She spun around, just in time to come face-to-face with an entire company of the King's Own. She couldn't help but be flattered. An entire company of the Own just to bring her down! Most bandits only got five. She grinned, gently touching George's dagger that was hidden near her lower ribs.

"Sirs, Lords," she smiled at them, her nose crinkling pleasantly.

The Own flared, with one of the elder ones crying out, "Get her!" Alanna knew she couldn't battle them with a single dagger and decided she would somehow have to obtain one of their proper Knight blades. Two men surged forth, twin swords gleaming. Alanna slid right, dodging the Knight to her left. Relying on the thickness of her riding boot, she kicked the sword out of the buttery hands of the Knight to her right. She grabbed it before it fell, holding awkwardly. It had been quite a while since she'd hand a proper sword in her hands. However, her fingers quickly nimbled and remembered where they usually went.

Gripping, tightly, she slashed out at the nearest Knight, wounding him at the shoulder. It was not deep at all but it was enough to sting. From behind her, the Trebond felt a wound open up along the length of her back. She gasped, as the pain became a crutch. She whirled, expecting just another stupid Knight of the Own who had merely gotten lucky. It was Roger who she caught eyes with instead. His sword was still crying her blood from its tip.

"Lady Alanna," the Duke of Conte mock bowed.

Alanna felt the depth of her wound hit her and she weakened slightly. She felt warm blood sliding down her back. Her sword slipped two inches through her hand but she clamped onto it, firmly, resisting it from falling. If she had ever needed to look strong, powerful, and together, it would've been now. Unfortunately, all she was was dirty, tired, and getting weaker by the second.

The Lioness swallowed her sticky saliva in her dry throat and raised her sword. She wasn't going to let a little cut stop her from fighting him. If she never became a Knight, at least she could die knowing that she had been able to slice upon Roger's flesh.

The Conte Duke seemed amused that she even got into the fighting stance, opting that she would've given up. He, however, humored her by doing the same and circling her as she circled him. They caught each other's eyes and Alanna wondered what he'd do to her if he knew she was Alan of Trebond.

Just as one of them, prowled to strike, the door to the landing opened, letting way for the King, Queen, Prince, Duke Gareth, Scanran Contes and the servingman Jakob. Instantly, Roger dropped his sword to his side, bowing, regally.

Alanna hesistated, then as Winfred shot her a look, she also lowered her weapon and curtsied. It was harder to do when you held a sword in one hand. Straightening, she noticed the King and Queen watching her like they didn't quite understand exactly what they were looking at.

"Uncle, I was just-," the Duke of Conte began but was cut off.

"He understands what you were doing," Duke Gareth interrupted, "The only problem seems to be whether or not this young lady is guilty."

"I beg your pardon?" Roger stiffened, his expression blank, though, the Trebond could tell he was displeased.

King Roald took in a deep breath, "Your Aunt Winfred has come forth with some proof that Lady Alanna's intentions posing as the royal Niece were really honorable."

"Honorable? I do not see how that could be. Lest anyone is forgetting, this girl is an imposter who was only trying to win the heart of our dear Jonathan," the sorcceror responded, his voice getting slightly heated.

"We still need to listen to all the evidence before we sentence anyone," Duke Gareth stated, clasping both his hands together in a very stern manner, "I believe this calls for a trial. What say you, Your Majesty?"

"I quite agree. Can we arrange something for tonight if at all possible? The longer this draws out, the more factors we must work in," Roald accorded, studying the disarray of Alanna's gowns, "As for the present, Lady Alanna is as free and noble as any of the rest of us. I hope you may be able to find her proper lodging, Duke Gareth?"

The Lady Squire's sword clanged to the floor. She dropped it, feeling dizzy. The loss of blood was finally taking its toil. She felt her blood-her life's elixir seep to her ankles and drip on the floor, staining it a deep scarlet.

Queen Lianne noticed and gasped, "Great Mother Goddess! Someone get her to a healer!"

No sooner had she said this than Jon had come to Alanna's side, supporting her weight. She let her head loll on his shoulder only a little bit, as she attempted to steer their direction. She felt herself floating in and out of consciousness as the Crown Prince, the Royal Aunt, Niece and Nephew swatted around her, saying things to her that she couldn't decifer.

* * *

Alanna sipped her spiced tea, bending over on Thom's or rather, her bed. Her entire upper body had been wrapped in a tight bandage to stop the bleeding. Afterwards, Abigail had offered the Lioness one of her own gowns and she took it, grateful for the change of clothes. The Lady Squire had also washed, her hair sighing in relief at the touch of water.

She took a gulped of her tea and practically regurgitated it back out. The hot liquid had burned her tongue raw. Thom and Faithful sat at across from her at a desk which she had never used as Squire Alan but it seemed her twin frequented a lot.

"Drink slowly. You have time till the trial," her brother soothed her, scratching at a spot behind Faithful's ear.

Alanna nodded, although she couldn't help thinking of this as her last meal. Faithful probably overheard the thought but didn't say anything to comfort her even if he did. The Trebond had to admit she was rather jealous of how close her cat had become with Thom. After all, Faithful was _her _cat.

'_Envy doesn't look good on you,_' Faithful purred, his voice laughing.

Thom's face was still blank so Alanna supposed the comment had been directed towards her. She scowled, sticking out her tongue.

'_I still love you most_,' Faithful responded, jumping off Thom's lap and clamboring onto Alanna's. The Lioness smiled, rubbing his back.

"Do you think George is back at the Dove by now?" the mage twin inquired, if only just to make conversation.

The Lady Squire shrugged, "Nah. He's probably hiding out at Eleni's. He'll return in a couple of days."

"That was quite the escape. From right under the Provost's nose," Thom remarked, thoughtfully, "I wonder how he did it?"

"George's a King of Thieves. He's a sleuth. You can as much as hold him as you can hold water," Alanna replied, rather amazed by the Rogue's escape herself. At least now, no matter what happened, she'd know that he was safe (as safe as a thief can be that is) at the Dancing Dove. Somehow that one thought was about the most comfortingly thing she had thought all day.

"Do you-?" Thom ceased in his tracks as the door to their chambers came open. It was Jon.

"Am I interrupting anything?" he implored, shutting the door behind him.

The twins shook their head in chorus. Alanna grew rigid and nervous. She'd promised herself that if she told anyone the truth about this whole big mess, that'd she'd tell Jon. He was the one that deserved to know the most, after all. But now that she was here, in her squire's quarters, and he was naught but five feet away, it seemed more and more humiliating.

"Well, I came here to tell you that they're calling you to the trial, Alanna," Jonathan explained, leaning against the wall beside Thom.

"Oh?" the Lioness set aside her spiced tea, rising, "I'll head down in a second. First, I have to tell you something."

"Yes?" he pushed himself off the wall, coming closer.

Thom felt horribly embarrassed sitting inbetween them. He cleared his throat and they both glanced down at him. He rose, awkwardly, deciding that no man should have to live through his sister's love life.

"I'll just be out in the hall," he coughed, scurrying out of the room.

Alanna stared pointedly at Faithful to follow, but the feline would not budge. So, it was Alanna, Jonathan and Faithful that sat back down on Squire Alan's bed. The cat curled into the Lioness' lap and she petted him, absent-mindedly. Her Knightmaster did not persist on her rushing to tell him.

"Jon," the Lady Squire's voice was caked and broken from sleepless nights, "I just wanted to say that that I-"

She stopped as she looked up, his dark indigo eyes caught her own and she found that she just couldn't tell him. How could she say those two big L's in a row? What would he think of her?

'_After all we've been through, I realized something. I love you. Oh, and I lied to you._'

_'You lied to me!_'

_'Well, I don't love you._'

_'After all this, I realized some feelings I have for you too. Hate_.'

The scenarios got worse and worse in her mind. Jon's eyebrows furrowed. Apparently, he was getting impatient.

'_If I'm so brave_,' Alanna wondered to herself, '_Why can't I tell him this?_'

'_This sort of thing is sometimes scarier than a million bandits_,' Faithful consoled.

"You know what," the Trebond finally said, "I'll tell you all this later."

"Alright," he looked disappointed but nonetheless rose from the bed, brushing out the wrinkles in his breeches. He looked back at her, "To the trial then?"

She stood, bobbing her head, "To the trial."

* * *

**Author's Note: **This didn't end where I thought it would. It was supposed to be further along, but I decided against it. I didn't want to cram it all here when I can post it next chapter. So this might mean that instead of one more chapter, it may be two more chapters. My gosh, this story just doesn't want to end. Anyways, I hope you enjoy yourselves and I hope you all review. It reallyy means a lot. Maybe I'll start a new campaign. Instead of P.Diddy's Vote or Die, it'll be winky-wink's Review or Die.

**winky-wink**

Review**or**Die


	24. Just Desserts

**Disclaimer: **Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.

**Title: **Ghost of the Past

**Author: **winky-wink

**Genre: **Romance/Humor/Drama

**Rating: **T (Just to be safe)

**Pairing: **Alanna/Jon

**Musical Affection: **'Mr. Raven' by _MC Lars._

**Author's Note: **Sorry this update is so late. I got busy with Christmas and stuff. Merry Christmas to you all by the way. Consider this my present to you. However, just so you know, this is _not _the last chapter. But the next chapter will be the last chapter for sure. For sure, for sure. I'll bet my life on that. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I especially like the ending haha.

**George's Death: **Ah, no! I would never kill off George. No, unfortunately for anybody who wanted me to do off Delia or Helena or Roger, no one will end up dead by the end of this story. Anyways, this story is more a filler, not really its own thing.

**Forgetting things (Alex's sentence): **This is more so directed to Hikari-chan, yeah I tend to forget things some times. But I often read back on my stories and then luckily remember something that just may save me in the future. Anyways, speaking of forgetting things, that's what most nobles will do about the rape case. Right now, it's all so confusing that not everyone realises what happened. So after Alanna's case, they'll probably do an enquiry into the whole fiasco, including the rape. If I have time to mention any of which proceeds that, I will.

**Give You Fluff or Die: **Ok, I swear, it will come. I will have a scene dedicated to it. I won't cut it out of this entire story. I would be upset with myself if I cut all A/J out of this story. It's A/J that inspired it in the first place.

**Sequel: **Sequel? I'm supposed to say no to this. Partially because I have other stories I wanted to write and partly because I didn't really know how to continue this story. But now, suddenly, I think I might have been inspired to write something. I even planted a secret seed for it in this chapter. OO...can you find it? If you can, I'll mention you next chapter somhow haha. But I'm not sure if I'll ever put a sequel up here on to: **Mishi Starr **_lutefa _Hikari-chan **epobbp **_FanFictionFanthom _charlie and lola **Lady Knight **_Queen Alanna of conte _Dom's Angel **Kokari **_kristina _mobbyrules **elsepethana **_impossible-dreams _&&& Pink Squishy Llama.

&**&**_M_erry**Christ**mas

* * *

'_There are higher courts than courts of justice and that is the court of conscience_'-Mahatma Gandhi

* * *

When you think you're heading over to your own funeral, you walk extremely slow and notice things that you never had before. Going down the hall to the court room, Alanna drank in the beauty of the Tortallan palace. The carvings of the Conte symbol on the white marble, the way the golden borders seemed to radiate like fire, and even the way that Faithful's paws patted softly against the sleek floor. It seemed to her right now that this was all she had ever known. Trebond was so far away, the Convent was so far away. 

Instinctively she snatched the hands of Thom and Jon, both who were standing to either side of her. The Lady Squire kept looking ahead, not even glancing at the looks of dumbfounded surprise on their faces. They came upon the large wooden door with the brass knob that led to the court room. The Crown Prince slipped his palm out of Alanna's and opened it.

Inside, a long table was set with candlebras and chairs. It was set up more like a conference than a trial. At the head of the table sat the judge, Lord Provost, himself. To his left was King Roald, Queen Lianne, Lord Cobalt, Lady Winfred, Abigail, Lincoln, and an empty seat for Jonathan. To his right were Duke Roger, Lady Catherine, Helena, Delia, Duke Gareth, the servingman Jakob, and an empty seat meant for Thom. At the very end of the table, straight across from the stern gaze of the Lord Provost, was a richly furnished chair just for Alanna.

Behind her, she heard Jon close the door. She sat, feeling all eyes on her. She had never felt so probed. It felt as if every person in the room could see right through her and know that she was lying. Faithful purred and clambored onto the Trebond's lap, trying to calm her.

Finally, once everyone was seated, one of the most confusing trials in the history of Tortall began.

"Lady Alanna of Trebond, you have been charged with masquerading as a member of the high and exalted Conte family and for magicking the entire family to the point where they could not even recognize their own. You are also accused of working in cooperate with one George Cooper, a wanted criminal in Corus and most other cities in Tortall," Lord Provost repeated all her charges as the Conte Duke smirked, "What do you plead to these charges?"

The Lioness felt rather nervous, even though she had already planned out what she would say, "I plead guiltly to all that, my Lord."

The Duke's smirk fell off, slightly. He was rather puzzled by her response. He was sure she would try to make up excuses, which he, himself, had planned to shoot down one by one.

Lord Provost raised his eyebrows and looked back down at the papers before him, "You, along with Lady Winfred of Conte, Lady Abigail of Conte and Lord Lincoln of Conte have also accused Lady Catherine for the murder of her last two husbands. You have also, in turn, charged Lady Helena for collaborating with her mother on these murders. Do you stand by this?"

"Yes," Alanna nodded, knowing short answers would be more effective as opposed to long drawls. Momentarily, she looked up and caught Lady Catherine's eye. The woman was looking at her, fit to burst. She had never thought her rather annoying niece would end up accusing her of murder.

"I see. Do you have any evidence of this?" the strict Lord of the law demanded, lacing his fingers together at his lips.

"If I may speak?" Lady Winfred requested. It was immediately granted to such an important person at court, "We have brought forth a witness, Jakob Lancaster, who was previously a servingman to Lady Catherine and Lady Helena."

"Where do you have proof of that?" Lady Helena snapped, sharp as a tack.

Jakob opened his mouth to speak, paused, then looked to Lincoln. The other man nodded, urging him to speak, "Show them Jakob."

The only commoner among all the nobles looked very shy. He stood up, bowed to his sovereigns, then coughed, "I 'ave 'ere this painting done a few years back in Galla, of th'family an' their servants. If you'll just look at it..."

Lincoln rose, helping him set it flat on the table. It was extremely large, taking up a third of the table. Everyone leaned forward to stare upon it. It was beautifully done but what it depicted was crude. It showed a lavishly decorated room, obviously an elite manor in Galla. In the centre of the painting sat a family of four-no three. That little blonde boy, creeping behind the chair was obviously a servant. Anyways, the family of three were position so-Duke Horenchio Thyler of Galla was seated in a red velvet chair with Lady Winfred and Helena standing around him, looking lovely. Unfortunately, the entire thing was ruined by the way they had their servants at their feet, showing them toiling away. They looked more like slaves in Carthak than paid workers. One of them was obviously Jakob.

"That proves nothing," Lady Winfred turned up her nose, "We could have had many a servingman that looks like this commoner."

"I 'ave an address from the painter. If ye'll call on him he'll tell ya that I worked for these two ladies for at least six years. I also 'ave seven other addresses from seven other people that c'n vouch that I worked for the Nobility for back to fifteen years," Jakob countered, very, _very _prepared for all arguments it seemed.

Duke Gareth took in all these documents, visibly impressed. Lady Catherine and Helena had briefly been quieted.

"And what proof do you have of the murders of Lord Erik of Sommerset and Duke Thyler of Galla?" Lord Provost implored, patiently and in a kinder voice than Alanna thought he would have.

She felt helpless as she looked on at Jakob. This was going to be the hardest part of the trial, just sitting and watching Jakob present all the information, hoping that he would give them sufficient evidence to convict Catherine and Helena.

"This is a hankerchief tha' was found tied around Lord Erik's neck. Y'c'n even ask the Nobility at Sommerset. They all saw it on his person. Th'Knights an' investigators in Sommerset couldn't figure 'ow he was killed. They didn' wan' no hankerchief neither," Jakob explained, "I took it for meself. Never used it though. I know 'oo did. Lady Catherine, m'afraid. She used it to strangle my Lord an' didn' know I saw. If y'magic it, ye'll see her sweat on it. She was sweatin' all over when she was killin'."

Duke Gareth took the hankerchief, gently, and placed it into a bag that was created by soccerors so that any essence left on it would not be rubbed off.

Catherine snorted, "It _is _my hankerchief, I could've sweated over it any old time! And my husband could've tied it around his own neck for decoration. This proves nothing."

"I've also proof that 'er eye witness account that she was elsewhere is false," Jakob continued, ignoring Catherine's interruption.

"How so?" King Roald questioned, rather riveted by the complexity of the case and how it was all unfolding.

"Th'eye witness fer th'alibi was meself. I c'n say I lied t'excuse m'Lady 'cause I was threatened by th'Lady 'erself," the servingman replied, calmly, "Ye c'n even ask th'Knights there. I even 'ave a report from 'em. I bet if y'spell 'er, she'll tell th'truth."

"I don't believe it will resort to that," Duke Roger frowned, rubbing his chin, thoughtfully, "Anyways, I think we've heard enough of Lord Erik, what have you on Duke Horenchio Thyler?"

Lord Provost looked displeased at the sudden change of subject but let it pass.

"Well, I 'ave 'ere a list of names an' addresses of ten people other than meself who c'n say they saw m'Lady stab Duke Thyler t'death," Jakob responded, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips, "She wasn' as careful this time 'cause 'ee wasn' dyin' as fast as she expected. She tried three times afore she got'im."

"Why did none of these people go forward?" Queen Lianne inquired, extremely surprised, her eyes wide as saucers.

Jakob smiled, sadly, "No one wants t'be outta a job, Yer Majesty."

"Well, is this all your evidence?" Lord Provost asked, shuffling his papers together.

"I just 'ave this one last thing," Jakob added, timidly, bringing out a notebook, "My Lady Catherine was organized. She wrote all 'er notes in this."

"He could've easily forged that!" Helena gasped out, grabbing wildly at loose ends.

"Spell it," Jakob snapped, looking offended at the thought that he would stoop that low to convict them, "Truth spell th'ladies. Ye'll see."

"How did you come upon these various things anyways? The painting, the notebook, the hankerchief?" Roger demanded, looking at Jakob expectantly, his face showing signs of pleasure. Alanna gulped, not at all liking that look.

The servingman blushed, "I nicked'em."

"_Ah_. You stole them you mean," the Duke of Conte gave a fake smile, eyeing the Lord Provost's features, which were disturbed. To what extent could they trust a thief?

A long silence ensued. Finally, Duke Gareth broke it with a simple statement and question, "I belive we are finished with Mr. Jakob. Who will check over his evidence for proof that it is liable with their Gift?"

"I shall," Roger offered, instantly.

However, Jonathan shot a look at Lord Provost, after which the judge said, "Unfortunately, I cannot let you do that."

"And why not?" Roger reddened, acting all innocent and offended.

"It is to my understanding that you may be-how do you say it...oh, _biased_, Your Grace," Lord Provost placed it, lightly, grinning unbashedly. Apparently, he wasn't taken in by Roger's charms either.

The Conte Duke looked to his Aunt and Uncle to rebuke this but they did not, "Very well. Then who shall conduct the check?"

"I can," Thom suddenly spoke up, "Under the surveillance of other mages of course."

Everyone looked to Lord Provost. Alanna crossed her fingers, hoping he'd say yes. Hoping he'd let Thom give them a fair shot at saving Alanna's neck.

"Very well," the Lord replied, waving his hand platonicly, "Now to the second part of our case, the accusations against Lady Alanna. Jakob Lancaster, you may exit the room on this occasion. I'm sure Squire Alan would not mind escorting you to the servants quarters as he heads off to the Gift department to study the evidence with at least three other full fledged mages?"

Thom took the hint and stood, Jakob followed suit. In a minute they were out of the room, their footsteps receding. The Lioness felt everyone watch her once again. Now that Jakob's part in the case was done, it was her turn. She rubbed her palms against her blue skirt, holding to get rid of some of the sweat.

"Lady Alanna, you have pleaded guilty to all your charges, but can you give us a reason why you have partaken in those very crimes?" Lord Provost questioned, seemingly fascinated by the youngest person he'd ever tried. Let alone a woman and a noble! Most noble ladies he saw weren't even aware that Tortall had a judisical system.

"Yes," she nodded, aware that her hair was cut almost as short as Thom's, "I imposed as the royal Niece and magicked the minds of all the Contes because I wanted to protect them. I had heard rumours of my Aunt's murderous past and had a feeling her next target was Prince Jonathan himself. All in court know that His Highness and my cousin, Lady Helena, were, at one time, together. My Aunt had planned to marry Helena off to the Prince, in hopes of obtaining fortune and the throne for her daughter. They both planned to kill His Highness off, as is demonstrated in their previous endeavours. I wasn't in love with the Prince, I was trying to _protect _the Prince."

"Why did you not just tell the King's Own or Lord Provost of this when you reached Corus?" Duke Gareth questioned, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"If I did, who, in the wide world would, believe me?" the Lady Squire asked in turn.

"But what of your brother, Alan; did he know of your plans?" Lord Provost implored.

"No, it was a necessary evil that I hide my true identity from him too," the Lioness responded, trying not to answer too fast or it would seem like she had rehearsed this, "I regret having to magic everybody very much. But I had to, you see. It was the easiest way to keep a close eye on the Prince and my Aunt Catherine."

"My Lord," Lady Catherine appealed, "She knows nothing. You see, I have never been her favorite Aunt..."

"Shh," he hushed her, "And what have you to say about co-working with a criminal?"

"When I met George Cooper, I wasn't aware that he was the King of Thieves. All I knew was that he was a commoner and had good connections up at the palace. Of course, I asked him to help me," Alanna clarified, "I was only a Convent girl from the City of Gods. I didn't know about the underbelly of Corus."

Lord Provost, Duke Gareth and the monarchs exchanged looks. It _did _make sense.

"But then why did you say you did it all to be close to the Prince at first?" Duke Roger shot, weakening their confidence in her.

"Um," the Trebond gulped, noticing Helena grin, happily, "It was because...I couldn't reveal my true motives just yet."

"Elaborate for us, why don't you," the Conte Duke teased, making the situation worse.

'_Speak today or die tomorrow_,' Faithful purred, egging her on.

"Erm, I couldn't because...Jakob hadn't arrived in Corus yet. Without him by actual story couldn't be plausible yet," Alanna finished, pleased with her response. Apparently so were the other adults. Other than Duke Roger, Helena and Catherine that is. They looked as if they had been sucking on lemons all day.

"Is this all you have to say, Lady Alanna?" Duke Gareth questioned, making Alanna cringe at the formality. She nodded and he went on, "You do understand that if the servingman Jakob's evidence proves false, tomorrow you and Jakob Lancaster, himself, will be most certainly sentenced to death?"

"Yes," the Lioness choked out, confirming her worst fears.

" Then the trial is ajourned," Lord Provost declared, "We will give our verdict tomorrow at the first hour when Squire Alan's findings reach us."

* * *

Alanna sat on the bed in the chambers she'd been given by the King and Queen. It was in the guest's quarters and was exceeding uncomfortably luxurious. The Trebond settled onto the softest bed imaginable which seemed to swallow her up. She had requested to be alone, closing all doors to visitors, even Faithful. She didn't want anyone to see her all nervous and twitchy. Waiting was possibly the worst part of this entire grueling mess. 

The worst part about playing a noble lady was the fact that she couldn't count away the treacherous hours by partaking in one of her hobbies. Swordsplay, fencing, tilting, riding and archery were not something that a regular lady did when she wanted to pass the time.

So, in the end, the Lady Squire did nothing but sit on her bed and stare at the wall right across from her. That is, until she heard the door to the room next door, her sitting area, burst open. Thom rushed in to the bedchambers, excitement flooding his face. Alanna promptly stood at his entrance.

"You're as good as free!" Thom beamed, happily, which was uncharacteristic for him, "All Jakob's evidence matched up perfectly!"

"Really?" the Lioness smiled, feeling all the stress melt off her. She enveloped Thom in a hug, which he awkwardly returned by patting her back softly a few times. It was extremely difficult for both Trebond children to show affection, even to each other.

Alanna sighed out loud and plomped back down on her bed, "Then this mess can finally end! All of it! I won't even have to be wary with Aunt Catherine and Helena because they'll be in jail!"

"Yes," the mage nodded, "And it also means I can return to the City of the Gods to continue my magical training."

A strange quiet followed with Alanna finally saying, "Right. Of course you'll be going back."

"Well, you knew that I would have to eventually," Thom offered, rather incredulous at her disappointed reaction.

"I knew," the Lady Squire admitted, "I just wish you could've stayed longer. I never see you...and the one time I do, it's in the middle of all this."

Her brother sat on the bed next to her, oddly offering comfort, "Well, now's just not the time for us, is it? When we're grown and you're a Knight and I'm a sorceror, we can spend all the time in the world together."

"True," the Trebond grinned, faintly, "We still do have _a lot _of years ahead of us."

"You know me," Thom tried to joke, "I'll probably live to be one hundred."

"Then I'll be one hundred and one," Alanna chorused, laughing as she imagined both of them as old fussy nobles like some of the elderly groups at court.

"So tomorrow, before the verdict, I think we should trade places," Thom decided, "I heard mumbling and I believe they'll have a carriage ready to drag you away to the Convent right after the end of the trial. I'll go in your place since, luckily for us, I've spoken to Maude and she's made arrangements to get me back to the City of the Gods on that very trip."

"And I'll be here as Squire Alan...perfect," the Trebond said, relieved, "I can't believe I survived all this."

"You had about a dozen people working their hinds off for the mess too, mind you," Thom interjected, elbowing her in the ribs.

From the crack at the door that led to Alanna's sitting room, Helena smirked, triumphantly. She and her mother had expected to be convicted of the murders and sent to imprisonment, but they had also planned to give their dearest Alanna one last gift before they were taken away. And, it seemed, that both twins were playing directly into their waiting trap.

Helena stood, looking beautiful even in the dim unflattering light of the room. She swung her long brown hair over her shoulder, heading to the door that led out of 'Lady' Alanna's chambers. Just as she opened it, a sleek black cat slinked in through it. Helena glared down at it and it glared right back. She paled slightly as she caught its violet eyes. They were unnatural, just like Thom and Alanna's.

The Gallan dared to kick the cat, slightly and hiss, "Watch your step, kitten."

The cat reeled back and arched its back, defensively. Helena snarled, heading out the door and shutting the door, quietly behind her. Faithful sat by the door, hearing her footsteps fade. Then, he pawed his way into Alanna's bedchambers. He leaped onto the Lioness' bed and onto her lap. Once there, he rubbed his head against her chin and neck until she brought her ear close to his mouth. Then he whispered something that he thought might interest her.

* * *

Alanna sat beside Thom in the courtroom, legs and arms crossed. Unlike last night, today the courtroom was set up like an actual trial. Behind the two Trebonds, sat legions of nobles that had come to hear what fate would befall Alanna, Catherine, Helena and Jakob. For what it was worth, even the oldest noble lady spinsters and the strictest traditionalist were sitting amongst the crowds, eagerly. 

Some royal servingmen and women had been allowed in too, just to tend to their masters. Carly, Lydia and the other maids cowered by Lady Winfred, Abigal, Lord Cobalt and Lincoln. They watched Alanna, apprehensively, still not quite believing that she had been the lady that they had waited upon those past few months.

Raoul, Gary, Douglass and Geoffery had come, simply, to support Squire Alan and if that meant his sister too, then so be it. Faithful sat in Alanna's lap once again, grinning at what he knew was to come. Alanna smiled to, glancing at Thom. He had no clue, of course because if he did, he would make a large fuss about it. The only way she'd gotten him to cooperate, unknowingly, was to say she would claim they didn't time alone to bid farewells. **(Confused here? You'll get it later on like next chapter which will be most definitely the last chapter.)**

Guards of the King's Own blocked every exit and entrance, not wanting another escape like George Cooper's. Alanna had a feeling the Rogue, himself, was in the court room at that moment, silently cheering her on. Lord Issac stood by the main door, a pouch of scotch at his belt. Roger stood near him, a dark scowl etched across his face. He had lost and he was most certaintly not happy with it.

Alanna felt someone come and sit directly behind her. She didn't have to look to know that it was Jonathan. Already her pulse had quickened. Though there was a small barrier seperating them, it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. Would she dare? Perhaps, getting it over with quick would be the way to go. Though he had said nothing to her, she whirled around, eyeing him. He smiled, faintly, and nodded to acknowledge her.

Intaking a sharp breath, she leaned in closer so that only he could hear, although she knew the whole court was watching her, itching to know what they were saying. He pulled his head forward too, listening intently.

Alanna took one last glance around the room, feeling everyone staring at her with a certain fascination, then said, "I love you."

After that, she turned back around, not wanting to see her Knightmaster's face as he digested those three words. All around them whispers erupted about what the convicted maiden could possibly have said to the heir to the Tortallan throne. Fortunately for the 'convicted maiden', the trial commenced just then with the Lord Provost knocking the gavelling three times. Order came to the court room and everyone hushed their gossip.

"We are here, today, to give the verdict on the Trebond-Conte-Lancaster-Galla case. King Roald, Queen Lianne, Duke Gareth, Duke Roger, the King's mages along with the help of Squire Alan of Trebond and I, myself, have all come to a conclusion on who is to be convicted and who not," Lord Provost speeched, his gaze penetrating every mind in the vicinity.

He paused a minute before continuing, the entire court held in suspense by what he was going to say. Alanna gripped Thom's hand, tightly, half wishing that she'd never have to here the verdict and just stand still in limbo. Lord Provost's voice finally broke the dim, "As far as Lady Alanna of Trebond goes, we find her not guilty of all charges. Her methods were questionable but her motives were honorable and meant for the good of the kingdom."

Polite applause met this part of the verdict. Everyone was happy to see someone innocent go free, but they'd rather have seen Alanna crash and burn. It made for a much better story. Alanna, however, was fit to burst with pleasure and relaxed by letting herself slouch in her chair.

"As for any Conte involvement," Lord Provost went on, "We find that none of them have been even remotely involved."

Far louder applause and even a few cheers met this. Everyone wanted to win favour with the royal family and if that meant cheering for them, then so be it. The Scanran Contes and the King and Queen all smiled, mechanically as they had learned to do over the years.

"Next, we have Mr. Jakob Lancaster," Lord Provost glanced down at the papers before him, briefly before looking back up, "He is entirely innocent of any charges that have been put against him, including lying to the law."

Jakob, who had been quite unnerved about getting involved in a noble case, looked intensely relieved. He even stood and bowed to the monarchs before seating himself again.

"Finally, we come to the Gallans," Lord Provost smiled, rather amusedly looking at Lady Catherine and Helena dressed in all their noble glory, "The court finds them...guilty of murdering Lord Erik of Sommerset and Duke Horenchio Thyler of Galla. Lady Catherine will be sentenced to a lifetime of work in the mines in the North of Tortall. Lady Helena, since is naught by an accomplice, will be sentenced to only seven years in the mines. You are to leave this very day."

A gasp washed over the court room. The Nobility instantly began whispering to the person next to them, eyes wide. They'd all heard rumours of the murder of Catherine's past two husband, but they had never thought she would someday be convicted. Most nobles were just _not _convicted. Just vile things only happened to commoners in Tortall's law system.

Helena looked ashen and horrified. Lady Catherine on the other hand was far more composed and merely said, "Yes my Lord."

Two Knights of the King's Own came forward, immediately, forcing Helena and Lady Catherine up. They took them roughly by the elbows, dragging them to the doors across the room. Helena looked appalled, her mouth shut in a tight-lipped line.

"Now," Lord Provost continued, as the Gallans were slowly being dragged outside, "May Alan and Alanna of Trebond please stand?"

The twins glanced at each other, nervously. What was this for? However, they both obeyed, standing up straight.

"Come around that desk," Provost commanded, relishing in the fact that he was working at their fears.

They both did. Alanna had not planned for this. Were they going to arrest her? Lord Provost nodded to a servingman standing beside him, who was holding two bags. He stepped forward, offering them both a pouch of blue velvet. The Lioness took her's, noticing that it was heavy.

"They are plaques gifted from King Roald and Queen Lianne, thanking you for your efforts to protect their life, Lady Alanna," Lord Provost explained, smiling for once, "And for you, Squire Alan, for your work in this trial."

Alanna and Thom were awestruck and brought out the golden plaques in shock. The Lady Squire stroked her's, glad that for once it was _Alanna _that had won a plaque for saving the kingdom instad of Alan. However, her joy was cut short quickly. Lady Catherine shrieked and bit the hand of the Knight holding her. He let go instantly, whimpering. So much for the King's Own. Catherine raced forward too fast for anyone to stop her, pulling down the twin's pants, revealing what she smugly knew was the true sex.

For the second time that day, the nobles gasped in shock.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Omg. LOL...I know, big cliffie. Ok, well next chapter is most def. the last chapter. I can swear on my life this time. Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this. I didn't put everything in it but I gave you a taste I hope. The last scene in the court room will be detailed next chapter and that small but omigosh moment with Jon, yes next chapter Jon and Alanna will have a whole scene alone together to settle all that. Oh, and what's going to happen to Abigail and will she marry Roger too. Ok, read in and review please. You know the drill. Review or Die. 

**winky-wink**

&**&**Review**or**Die


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